#also nate is somewhere else entirely

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 2x2 - "The Tap-Out Job"

Sophie is correct to be aghast! What the hell are Eliot and Parker doing?!? Not okay!

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

hide the sun - n. mackinnon

summary: there are some things nathan mackinnon can't cope very well with in life. one of them happens to be mia in hospital, and needless to say it's a whirlwind when it comes true. (f!oc!soccer player)

warnings: swearing, details of injury (stitches, concussion, temporary amnesia etc), mentions of vomiting, mentions of anxiety, brief mention of the pandemic, mentions of sports psychologists, mention of painkillers/hospitals/doctors, mentions of routines/small rituals, angst

word count: 13.8k (sheesh)

< a/n: this is for demi (the legend herself) @wyattjohnston as part of the summer fic exchange2k24! i hope you enjoy it! also a massive thank you for organising such a wholesome event in this little community!! >

Nate had lost count on how many times he’d had to dive into the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach in the last few hours. It seemed like every time he got close to stepping inside the hospital room his brain would play over what happened in his head and he’d relive it all again – as if once wasn’t enough. Only, his imagination was crueller than reality because the outcome would always be…Mia not conscious and talking in the hospital bed.

All is well, he had to keep reminding himself of that or the fine thread holding everything in check would spontaneously snap and he’d be inconsolable.

He’d gone through a lot in his life, but nothing had ever come close to him experiencing this level of fear before. And that in itself was a terrifying notion, because that fear was rooted in someone else’s well being. His happiness and his peace were attached to the woman in the hospital bed, not to himself, and he found that both profoundly moving and disturbing at the same time.

He flushed the toilet once more, stomach muscles aching, and shut his eyes, his head lolling against the wall behind him. 

He was well aware he was being a dick. Perhaps the biggest prick he’d ever been before in his entire life. And he was being all of that to the person he was wholeheartedly, irrevocably, hilariously in love with, too. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forgive himself let alone ask for forgiveness from her.

He was still shaking and cold, and every time he shut his eyes that scene was played on repeat: the ball flying through the air, Mia jumping up to head it away but instead getting a sharp elbow to the temple (one Nate could safely say rivalled even Jacob Trouba’s weaponry) and going down cold. Nate knew it was bad just from the way she’d fallen – limbs loose, like a puppeteer had surrendered control of the strings – he’d had enough practice in his own field, and he hadn’t ever anticipated her also being on the receiving end of such a blow before. 

Of course, it had been her teammates first, frantic expressions on their faces as someone waved over the physios, and then the physios had waved over the paramedics and–

Nate inhaled a shuddering breath, a hand kneading away the pain in his chest. He’d never been one to admit he suffered with anxiety before, sure, he got them in bouts occasionally, but he’d never had it on this scale. Yet, another terrifying thing.

And to top all of that off, the guilt flowing through his veins was astronomical. He could feel it crushing his head from inside his skull, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs and he just wanted to curl up somewhere and sob everything out of his system. Then, and only then would he be able to stomach the thought of seeing her: when he’d comprehended everything.

“Fucking dick, what are you doing?” He groaned into his hands, wiping away unshed tears and taking another shaky breath, this one making his chin wobble.

He was needed, he was painfully aware of that. Painfully. It scorched his insides and his consciousness didn’t hold back the self-belittling remarks in his head, but he couldn’t peel himself up from the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to stand safely on his own legs, and he wasn’t entirely sure his stomach was strong enough just yet.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, and in an attempt to take it out of his pocket it clattered to the floor, victim to his trembling hands.

He blinked once, twice, three times to clear the blurriness of his eyes, and read over the words on his screen. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the shortness and cryptic tone of the message that had him finding strength from somewhere to haul himself onto his feet, or whether he was just intrinsically waiting for something to get him moving.

All anyone had been told so far was that she was in a stable condition – still unconscious – and that any scans that had been done so far had been as clear as they could be, that being no internal bleeding or haemorrhaging or anything that could have possibly resulted from getting hit in the temple and then bashing your head on the floor. A concussion was inevitable, and even thinking about it, Nate knew it wasn’t going to be a merciful one. 

Nevertheless, he managed to pocket his phone, a damp hand on the wall of the cubicle keeping him steady until he could unlock the door without wanting to immediately dive back in and hide until Mia was given the all-clear. 

He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was doing or where he was going when he was following the overhead signs, but he somehow ended up in the hallway. There were benches in the corridor, settled just outside Mia’s room, and he stopped as he rounded the corner.

There was a crowd of people significantly larger than when he’d initially run away to the toilets, and one quick glance at people’s faces told him they were teammates. It wasn’t the entire team, just a few close friends and the team physio – enough to mean a queue would have to be formed when she wakes up, what with some of her family members already in there.

And if he was being completely honest, Nate wasn’t sure what to expect as he slowly walked towards them. They’d taken up all the seats on the bench and a few people were sitting on the floor against the wall, but no one was talking. In fact, everyone appeared to be looking straight forwards at the same spot on the wall, but there was nothing there.

It was Milly who saw him first. She offered a tight smile and waved at him, and when he got close enough, just about to lower himself down on the floor next to her, she spoke.

“The doctor came out around two minutes ago.” She whispered, and Nate felt all the air in his lungs freeze.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, the sharp pain in his chest rendering him immobile. Of course he wanted to know if she was okay, but what if she wasn’t? That was the question that his mind kept repeating on a loop, and if that was the case then these few seconds he’d use to gather himself meant they’d be the last few seconds where he was ignorant to that piece of information.

He swallowed, unable to look at Milly, and instead turned his attention to the spot on the wall in front of him that everyone else seemed to be focused on.

“She’s awake.”

“Is she oka–” His throat was horrendously dry and his voice was scratchy, but it was Milly’s gentle hand on his forearm that had him shutting up.

“She’s okay.”

Nate nodded, not even noticing Milly had rescinded her touch, and instead inhaled deeply, nodding absent-mindedly.

“She’s been assessed, her memory’s a little bit patchy from the last couple of days but there’s no concern. Her family’s in there now.” She paused, and even out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was clearly hesitant in saying something to him. Everyone seemed to have looked at him like that since the minute he’d walked through the hospital doors, and he was starting to find it rather irritating. It felt awfully similar to impatience, like every time he caught someone looking at him with pity, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding not to (probably because they didn’t know how he’d react), he just wanted to yell – like when you get stuck behind a slow walker and you’re behind schedule in the airport.

He blinked hard, once, twice, before using the heel of his palm to quickly wipe his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the water welling up until the wall in front of him had become a blurred mess of blocked colours: red, green, blue, white. 

“Are you gonna go in?” Milly asked finally, and he was at least glad she made no comment on his tears.

He shook his head, not entirely trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking or wavering, or a complete breakdown – he’d be lying to himself immensely if he denied that wasn’t on the cards.

“Can’t.” He croaked, pulling his knees up to his chest, as best as he could given his height, “I’m not family, they won’t let me in.”

Milly considered his words for a moment before frowning, “Who won’t let you in?”

“Doctors. I’m not family, so…They don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s shit—”

“They told me to come back in the morning, but I’m not sure I can leave.” He whispered, his hand massaging the tender spot in his chest as he fought another onslaught of watery eyes.

He felt like it might be a bit of an overreaction to cry at the knowledge she was okay, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on anything. It was a combination of stress, worry and fear that just spiralled his emotions out of his own control, like someone else was fiddling with the joystick of a controller somewhere. Yet, even knowing the root of it all, the mere thought of straying more than a corridor away from the door to Mia’s hospital room was…incomprehensibly daunting. 

It almost sent him down another path of panic, he could feel the grips of it begin to claw at his heart rate and the clamminess of his palms again when he even so much as thought about it. 

No, he physically couldn’t bring himself to leave, at least not yet.

He’d at least give it another think when her parents walk out with a real update instead of the formal crap the doctors had spewed him earlier: some vague nonsense about her being stable but unable to tell quite the extent of the damage just yet, and if they knew they certainly couldn’t tell him because he wasn’t her husband. 

If only he’d lied initially. He’d probably think about that for the rest of his life.

Milly hummed, pulling out her phone. If the circumstances had been different Nate probably would have been able to stop himself peeking over at what she was doing, but he was so despondent and distracted in his own head, those horrified replays still flickering on a loop in the back of his mind, that he couldn’t bring himself to be nosey for once.

“That’s not right,” Milly muttered under her breath, scrolling down several pages of text, “They should let you in, you know? There’s no laws against it, it’s just been cracked down on during the Pandemic.”

“Huh?” Nate tilted his head, his nose running slightly. Now that the worst of his tears had gently fizzled away, his eyelids were heavy and his eyes were burning with fatigue. In fact, he could feel the exhaustion settle into his bones, and he knew that in about an hour he could be asleep on the hospital floor, even with those fluorescent lights shining in his face.

“They should let you in.” Milly repeated, pushing herself up and walking over to the nearest desk before Nate could even think about responding.

He kept his mouth shut, watching her talk to the receptionist from afar, not able to hear the exact words over all the hubbub, but getting the general gist of it when Milly half-turned to point at him. He couldn’t help it when his mouth flattened into a straight line and his eyes awkwardly averted themselves…before immediately flicking back over to the conversing pair, slightly afraid he’d miss something yet shaking in his shoes  at the thought of a shaking head of denial.

Milly patted the counter, before wandering back over to the group of them all, teammates sitting up straighter in their chairs and against the wall, eager eyes fixed on their captain, anticipation shimmering in their eyes.

Nate swallowed nervously, his hands still shaking and stomach still rolling. He was sure he looked as pale as he felt, as sickly as he felt. Milly’s avoidance of his stare was unnerving.

“I think I’m gonna go.” Milly came to a standstill in front of Nate, her expression unreadable, and before Nate could even stutter out an urgent ‘why?’, someone down the line beat him to it.

“It’s getting late, and we know she’s okay.” Milly paused, not quite knowing what to say, “I don’t want to overwhelm her, and we’re not gonna see her tonight, anyway.”

Nate blinked, jaw ticking, and when he looked back up, the corridor was nearly deserted. Milly was hovering near him, watching as the last body filed around the corner, shoulders slumped as she disappeared from view, before turning to him, “They said the doctors would be less likely to let anyone in if there was a massive group of people outside the room. I don’t know it’s gonna help your chances now, but…”

Nate felt his jaw drop before he registered what he was doing, quickly clamping it shut with a grateful nod of his head, “Thank you.”

She shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“You can stay, too, y’know–”

“Oh, no. I appreciate the offer, but if me not being here is the difference between you getting to see her or not, I’d rather not risk it.” She breathed a laugh, “Besides, I’ve got kids waiting for me at home.”

He nodded absently, and Milly had the strangest sense that he wasn’t completely there. He was inside his head, eyes a little bit unfocused as he looked in her general direction; his knee was bouncing, whether he’d noticed that or not she couldn’t tell – but she knew none of that would disappear immediately. At least, not until he’d be granted permission to enter the room and see her for himself.

And for that reason, she chose not to offer any words of comfort – they’d fall on deaf ears. Instead, she did something she’d been working up the courage to ask him for a while now..

“Um, this isn’t the right time to be asking this, I’m well aware, but you wouldn’t happen to know any sports psychologists I could get in touch with, would you?” 

For a harrowing and humiliating moment, Milly thought she’d just have to turn around, that the slight furrow of his brow as he stared relentlessly at that spot on the wall was just because she interrupted a comforting silence, but five seconds passed before she realised he was thinking.

His fingers fumbled with his phone as he removed it from a pocket, and she started, heart hammering in her chest when it slipped in his grip, before he caught it and switched it on.

“I know a few, actually. I have a few numbers if you want me to send them to you?”

She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Do you have a preference as to whether it’s a guy or–”

“No.”

She passed him her phone, watching as he typed in her phone number, still watching when her own phone lit up with three notifications of contacts he’d shared with her. When he passed her own phone back to her his eyes looked less troubled. They’d cleared up, less red than they had been, and he’d clearly been glad for a distraction.

“Thank you.” She breathed, managing a smile, “Hey, you can sit on the bench now everyone’s gone.”

Nate nodded, but made no move to get up. He wasn’t entirely sure why but the thought of sitting on the chairs instead of the floor felt way too real – it’d just solidify the reason that he had a right to sit there because of someone in one of the rooms, and his very bones felt heavier at that thought. 

Milly grinned, “She’ll be fine.” 

He said nothing to that, just gestured half-heartedly at the floor, “It’s cosier here.”

***

Mia had never been so achy and sore without exactly remembering what she’d done to feel those consequences. Everything hurt: her legs, her hips, her arms, her ribs, her head – gosh, her head! It felt like she’d been laid underneath a pneumatic drill and lived to tell the tale. Her nerve endings were on fire, mostly throughout her entire body and the sheer strength of the pain rendered her…well, she was so exhausted she couldn’t really cope with being awake for longer than a minute or so.

Her eyelids would get hot and droopy, and despite how hard she tried to keep herself awake, for her parent’s reassurances, the screaming agony in her head sent her eyes rolling and she succumbed to a brief period of sleep. Still, she didn’t feel a single ounce better having napped at all. If anything, each time she opened her eyes it felt as though the pain magnified for a brief second, like her body forgot it had been pumped with painkillers and she was just experiencing all the pain she possibly could.

That wasn’t even including the odd patches of her memory, though that she learnt through what she’d been told. Apparently this game wasn’t the one they’d won by a landslide – that had in fact been a month ago, yet she could still remember going to the grocery store three days ago and even though she was pretty sure something was missing from the hospital room, she couldn’t quite find the words for it and when she’d rather blearily croaked that concern she’d been thrown a quick ‘don’t think too much right now, honey’.

But she had seen the shared glance between her parents right before she passed out for the umpteenth time.

Needless to say, she did wake up with the answer right at the front of her brain – it felt remarkably like finding a pair of sunglasses you’d forgotten you owned.

“Whe–” Her eyebrows knitted together and she peeled her eyes open to…an empty chair. Followed by an empty room.

She shut her eyes, able to still picture the blank screened-TV on the back wall, the shuttered blinds to the windows on her right and the lone lamp on at the end of the room. She’s never had a concussion before, and with the way she was feeling right now she didn’t have any plans of ever having one again, at least if it was up to her.

She had no idea how Nate functioned. 

Nate. She tried to sit herself up properly in bed, the thing she’d been on the precipice of remembering flashing to the forefront of her mind, but all the motion did was send her stomach rolling, and before she could even think, her hands found the cardboard bowl laid on her lap, like someone had put it there in anticipation of this very moment, and heaved into the bowl. The pressure in her head sent a blinding pain from the temple with the bandage over it, right through her brain to her ear on the other side and all behind her eyes. She almost passed out again right there; she could feel the blood drain from her face and the familiar whooshing feeling as though her consciousness had fallen through her body and into the mattress beneath her. Her vision went black, spotty around the edges, but for some reason she could hear the sound of a door opening and closing, the rushed footsteps that only seemed to get louder and the hushed, reassuring voice in her ear as a warm hand helped lower her back against the pillows.

She knew just from the slight cloud of familiar aftershave that billowed around her exactly who it was. She might not be able to do much, think much or remember much at that moment, but Mia could recognise familiarity. It was like muscle memory, except her brain could decode it easily.

She kept her eyes shut and screwed up, willing the dizziness away – it gripped at the base of her throat and if she could compare the sensation to anything else, it was remarkably similar to how she imagined falling through a dark abyss whilst being unrolled from being tangled in some kind of tape. The scrunching up of her eyes, however, pulled awkwardly at something stuck to her temple; it sent a sharp stab of pain right across her cheekbone and into her hairline, and before she could even register what it was her fingers had found a padded sheet taped across the side of her face.

A band-aid.

Once the dizziness had subsided, she slowly peeled her eyes open, millimetre by millimetre, as if she was afraid something might jump out at her if she ripped them open too quickly.

Nate was sitting looking very awkward in the chair closest to the bed, one of his hands holding the cardboard bowl on Mia’s lap and the other gently tugging her hand away from her bandage. 

She could see there was a brief moment when she looked at him that something had changed, a window shattered somewhere perhaps. He looked like he’d been through the wringer: hair messed up (very uncharacteristic), cheeks somehow even paler than usual, eyes red, hands shaking, and fearful.

She couldn’t say for certain why he felt the latter but she could read it in his face, in his body language. She’d never seen him look so not-okay and put-together before.

In hindsight, it was not only cruel to do what she did next, but given the events of the day and how completely naive she was to other people’s experience of what happened, it most definitely was not the best idea:

“Are you a doctor?” She mumbled blearily. Mia was never really that great at pretending to do anything, whether it was a little white lie or something just to rile someone up, but there wasn’t much pretending about how tired she was or how confused she was in that moment; the blinking and the blank stare were all real, and in Nate’s eyes, borderline apocalyptic.

See, he’d been informed of her condition and spotty memory, but no one could say for certain just what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’ because there were so many inconsistencies and no one had really wanted to poke around where there were gaps in case it just caused more frustration than hope, so this four word question? Completely believable.

He saw Mia laid in bed, and taking into consideration what he’d previously been told, he figured it made sense. That didn’t mean to say his face didn’t drop further or his stomach didn’t plummet to the floor below or he didn’t feel the familiar twang of bile rising or the world didn’t just flip on its axis.

His entire relationship flashed before his eyes: four years, a dog, a house, two cars, dates, holidays, vacations, inside jokes, and it all crumbled at his feet with a simple question.

He’d run through it in his head, the possibility that she might not remember him quite yet, and it was understandable. He wasn’t mad at all, in fact he was all too willing to take a step back and let her recover in a more familiar environment where he was potentially isolated from her and everything he knew, but that had only been a possibility. Now it was looking like a reality and the only thing he felt was panic. There were alarms blaring in his head, loud protests, screaming, yelling, tears.

And somehow all he could do was blink the tears back and create some space between himself and her bed. Emotionally he wasn’t sure how to proceed but he could physically feel an invisible hand pushing him back against the chair, away from her.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes seemed well up of their own accord, and before he could even excuse himself from the room she spoke again.

“I was just kidding.” 

He blinked, his arms freezing from where he’d gone to push himself out of the chair, and he couldn’t really bring himself to move other than to drag his blurry eyes over to Mia, his jaw clenched and his guard still up just in case she still got it wrong.

He sniffled, inhaling through his nose, and not daring to ask if she was sure. But despite looking as though she’d been hit by a bus: a band-aid stuck right over her temple with stitches hidden underneath the plastic; purple eye bags; slow, lethargic blinking; an empty stare – Mia managed to look guilty. The corners of her mouth were pulled down, and her eyes were wide, almost like she couldn’t quite believe she’d pulled it off herself. 

And if he was being honest, Nate probably would have still had a hard time believing she actually did remember him if it wasn’t for her hand. It wasn’t something specific, but she’d placed it on his knee in a hurry when he’d made to push himself out of the chair, almost as if the prospect of him leaving wasn’t something to be desired. 

She was just as scared as he was.

Nate sniffled once more, allowing himself to settle into the chair and scoot forward again. The tears hadn’t disappeared, nor had the trembling, but his heart had eased up slightly once the realisation that, no, she hadn’t lost her memory of him had sunk in.

Then, and only then, he managed to speak, “You’re such a meanie.” It was more of a broken croak that had to be deciphered than something more intelligible than he would have liked, but after she winced at the volume of his voice already he found himself glad he sounded as broken as he felt.

She tried to smile, but her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord part way through the action, and she sighed, clearly completely drained, before rubbing her closed fist in a circle over her chest.

Sorry.

He shook his head despite the futility of it, and instead took the rather chilly, limp hand still resting on his knee into his grasp, leaning further forward so he was pretty much level with her. He allowed himself to breathe for a second, probably the first time he’d managed to do so since it had happened, and even though the tightness in his test remained, even though he still felt pretty emotional, he could at least look at her – like he’d done so many times in his life already – and know she was okay. 

Up close, he could see the plaster on her temple was darker in the centre and peeling at the edges slightly from where they’d pressed it into her hair, and on the other end he could see where someone – Mia herself – had started to pick at the edge, most likely out of curiosity. There was bruising along her cheekbone, and he knew from when he’d walked into the room in the first place that she had some other bruising on her jaw on the other side of her face from where she’d smacked into the grass.

That wasn’t even mentioning the dislocated shoulder, which, for now, was secured in a sling.

He was almost scared to touch her, not quite sure what would hurt or what wouldn’t, and before he could even deliberate any of that she was blinking again. Awake. She inhaled through her nose, wincing when her shoulder moved fractionally with the effort, and came to slowly. It was as though she was surveying the room for the first time again: her eyes were curious but not wide and she squinted at the light emanating from the little lamp, and Nate had to wait patiently for her to sweep her gaze around to him.

He tried a tight smile, his hands still clutching her free one in a warm embrace, and he could see the cogs benign to turn in her mind as she remembered when he’d come in. She eyed him sceptically, but this time (before his mind could run away from him) she gave him a lazy side-eye of sorts.

He breathed a laugh at the expression on her face, reaching over to smooth some of her hair down. He made sure to be gentle, not pulling on the hair too hard or pressing down on her head – rather just let it float back over to the right side of her parting, watching it fall as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what Mia had been expecting though because when he pulled back a little bit her mouth was pressed into a tight line.

“What?” He breathed a laugh, leaning forward on his palm to flick away more stray strands of hair. It seemed the closer he got the more he noticed that no one had taken particular care in brushing said strays out of her face, because he knew, even from looking at the way her nose kept twitching, that the tickling was intolerable. 

“When can we go home?” 

Nate swallowed, unable to look her in the eye as he shrugged. Nobody had told him anything. Her parents had left and told him as much as they could but they couldn’t say anything apart from the fact that she was okay – in fact, nobody even knew he was in here. His (almost) in-laws had gone to the cafeteria, running on nothing but coffee, and there hadn’t been anyone else really around when Nate heard the tell-tale sounds of…yeah. Needless to say he hadn’t really thought twice about bursting into the room to help her. She wouldn’t have if the situation was reversed, though from experience she did tend to lie to the medical professionals and just say they were married, something that had rather inconveniently slipped his mind in his panic-fueled state.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, if the quietness of his voice could even be considered such a thing. A fairy-whisper, perhaps: delicate, blink and you’ll miss it kind thing, “You’re on stroke watch, sweetheart, I don’t think it’ll be for another day or two.”

Her eyes shut again, and if it wasn’t for the tick in her jaw, Nate would have guessed she’d just fallen unconscious again.

“Are you okay?” He’d said them before he could stop himself. They’d been on the very tip of his tongue all day nearly, and his will had worn so low that he’d just given up and given in.

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting much of a reply. Mainly because he knew concussions were hell on earth, especially fresh ones as bad as this, but also because she’d been poked, prodded, sewn up, and asked things already. She must be sick of it all, but…he had to know. 

She kept her eyes shut but her free shoulder shrugged as best as it could, “Hurts.” She mouthed.

Nate nodded, resisting the insurmountable urge to squeeze her hand and take all the pain from her, “Tap my hand twice for yes and once for no, ‘kay?” 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards briefly, and he couldn’t help himself when he dropped a quick kiss on the back of her hand – though he couldn’t say for sure if it was supposed to help her more or help him more. 

Tap-tap.

“Do you need me to do anything? Get anything for you?”

She seemed to think about it for a second before pointing at something on the far end of the room and tapping his palm once.

He frowned. Lamp, no?

“Lamp off?” He thought out loud, pushing himself out of his chair eagerly when she tapped his palm twice again.

The thought of using the torch on his phone didn’t really occur to him when he was blindly trying to make his way back to his seat, and much to Mia’s dark amusement he walked into the end of the bed and tripped over the legs of two chairs on his way back. 

“Anything else?”

Tap.

He waved his hand in the dark near where he guessed her arm to still be held up, and dragged his fingers up her forearm to interlock their hands like before. 

“Is the dark better?”

Tap-tap.

He sighed. It wasn’t because he was fed up – not one of those sighs – or because he was relieved, per se. It almost felt like an instinct or a habit, like when he gets into bed and manages to find a comfy position, or when he steps out onto the ice first thing in the morning when no one else is around. It was a sigh of satisfaction, yet he didn’t feel at all satisfied by anything. Sure, he was happy that he’d adjusted something to Mia’s liking, but there was so much more he wanted to know.

Where did she hurt? How much did it hurt? Did she remember last night? Is she gonna recover in time for the play-offs? 

They weren’t yes or no answers, and the last thing he wanted was to bother her. She needed the peace and quiet and the dark and cold and someone to make sure she wasn’t going to stroke like someone had off-handedly said in the hallway. Nate knew he wasn’t the only person who could give her that, but he was glad it was him sitting there holding her hand and listening intently to the sound of her breathing and the rustling of her pillow.

It sounds crazy, he knows that, but he was horrified. Less than fifteen minutes ago he was so sure something life-changing had happened that meant he wouldn’t be allowed here. He knew head injuries were unpredictable, and he knew he should be somewhat irritated for the stunt she pulled earlier, asking if he was a doctor, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be so. That one interaction had alleviated the worries and concerns he’d had – the ones that were driving him to the brink of panic attacks pretty much – more than any words anyone had spoken to him over the entirety of the night so far.

It meant Mia was still Mia, and even though she might have changed, she was still the same person. And he was going to sit with her in the dark, holding her hand, pretending he was now okay, for as long as he was allowed–

“Are you okay?”

Even in the dark his eyes turned to look at where they knew she was. He was speechless for a few seconds having thought she was asleep and stuck so far in his own head that he hadn’t even considered the alternative.

He just hummed, which earned him a meaningful tap on the palm.

No.

“It was just scary for a minute, but I’m okay now.” Then he shook his head, almost-scoffing, “I should be asking you that.”

There was a half-hearted sigh, “Been better.”

***

Mia was sick and tired of the injuries after two days at home, bed-bound by a rather strict blonde that had a penchant for frowning and putting his hands on his hips when she suggested getting up and moving around. In all fairness, she could see where he was coming from, but in her defence she needed to know she was capable of a quick lap around the house, headaches and shoulder pains be damned. 

To have gone from training numerous hours per week – per day, in fact – to suddenly not being able to cope with being in a sunlit house in a room that wasn’t the bathroom or the bedroom. She was going stir crazy, and boredom was going to be her demise, she knew it. She could feel it atrophying her soul already and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take being holed up in bed, not allowed to use screens or read or think.

Doctor’s orders. 

Although, having said all of that, Mia did find herself waking up from a nap she didn’t remember succumbing to most of the time. She must have slept on and off all day for two days, but it felt like she’d not even shut her eyes for an entire week. And the pain, oh, the pain.

Her shoulder ached each time she so much as tensed something, though that was the least of it: the dislocation hadn’t been too ugly – quickly put back in, no soft-tissue damage. Didn’t stop it hurting, though. The biggest issue, Mia couldn’t quite get a hold of. She couldn’t decipher what was the concussion, what was the temple laceration or what was the bump on the head from the ground. Somewhere along the lines, all the pain blurred into one and it just felt like her head was splitting open from the inside.

The door creaked open gently, firstly with a soft pop, like the familiar noise of when Barney would push it open with his muzzle and the handle would click out of its place, before a familiar soft pat-pat of paws could be heard vaguely padding across the carpet. It if wasn’t for Nate’s strict rule-abiding of orders (he did right, to be honest), the sound of Barney preparing himself to jump onto the bed wouldn’t have been heard. In fact, if it wasn’t for the noise of the door clicking open, Mia probably wouldn’t have blinked awake again. 

It was dark outside, the lights from the garden shining through under the blackout blinds. It wasn’t bright enough to trigger anymore headaches or a potential migraine, what with the bouncing agony from her bruises and bumps doing enough already, but it was enough to cast a sliver of dull light across the bedspread.

Mia reached out blindly, patting the duvet next to her, already anticipating the soft bark of acknowledgement before the toffee spaniel had made his way into her personal space, his nose pressed against her thigh as he laid out right next to her. She ran a loving hand through his fur.

Nate hadn’t let Barney in the room without him watching, mostly because he was a little unsure as to whether the newly-trained dog would adhere to the ‘calm’ rule he’d hoped to implement somehow, and Mia had commented on it, a quick ‘he’s a dog, they have senses for this kind of thing’, and all Nate did was sigh and watch on with a worried gaze. Needless to say, Barney hadn’t barked in her face excitedly or run across the bed or unintentionally nudged anything he shouldn’t have done, and Mia couldn’t quite tell if he was in the room now because Nate had let him upstairs or if it was just a happy accident.

Barney sniffed, and Mia paused, holding her breath in the darkness. At the same time, Barney’s ears flopped and the steps creaked, before an unmissable hiss of, “Barney?” could be heard from further down the hallway.

She felt her eyes shut again, sleep begging to reach out and pull her under again – it was the dog, he was just so warm and cuddly she was practically being lulled back to sleep with his rhythmic breathing – but she resisted, instead focusing on the hand woven into his fur until Nate inevitably noticed the crack in the door.

He didn’t say anything when he opened the door even further, didn’t say anything when he crept around to his side of the bed before pulling himself onto the mattress, the covers dipping with his weight. Barney looked up at him, and Mia felt rather than saw his hand also go to pet the dog between them.

She lifted her hand, before briefly ticking his arm to let him know she was awake, and cracked her eyes open. 

He was in his pyjamas, clearly already having showered. He’d taken to using the spare bathroom instead of the en-suite, completely adamant on not wanting to disturb Mia even though she’d told him she wouldn’t mind, and Mia knew, probably better than most people, that it was difficult to change Nate’s mind when he’d already decided what he was gonna do. 

“Did Barney wake you up?” He whispered, pushing himself further into the bedding. Mia could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, could smell the shower gel and shampoo he liked. He’d literally just gotten out of the shower.

If she had more energy she would have turned to look at him: there was something about post-shower Nathan MacKinnon that Mia found downright irresistible. In four years, she still hadn’t managed to figure out what it was, but it definitely had something to do with the flushed cheeks,  damp hair and untamed curls. 

As much as he tried to tidy it with gel, Nate couldn’t escape the fact that his hair could be wild, and in the last couple of years it had only gotten worse.

“No, I was already awake.” She whispered, the force of trying to talk still putting more pressure on her bumps and cuts. Whenever she spoke out loud it felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head and her ears were going to bleed. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.

She turned her head in his direction, just able to make out the silhouette of his side profile: crooked nose, damp Prince hair, philtrum, mouth, chin. She couldn’t turn her head too much to the side, the lump around the back of her head making getting comfy even against a pillow difficult, yet the slight movement, slight rustle of the sheets had him almost instantly turning towards her. That was something she’d noticed that had changed: he seemed to jump at anything she did, whether it be to reach a hand out to grab her water bottle or simply turn to look at him.

She could imagine the wide eyed gaze as he scanned her face for signs of pain until he relaxed when he realised that all it was was shuffling. The alarm bells were still ringing.

There was a brief pause, and Mia took her hand out of Barney’s fur to poke Nate in the ribs. He jumped at the contact, still unused to the darkness, and grabbed her hand to stop her doing it again, breathing a soft, amused laugh, “Liar.”

“I was gonna wake up soon anyway.” 

“You hungry?” 

“Yeah.”

Mia felt herself relax under his touch, his fingers playing with hers, finding their way in the dark across the back of her hands right around to her palms before straightening her fingers and placing a delicate yet hurried kiss to the back of her hand. She didn’t even have enough time to query exactly what it was he was about to do before he’d pushed himself up off the bed, Barney sitting attentively, and placed his hands on his hips leisurely. 

“You want anything specific?” Nate asked, absent-mindedly placing his leg on the bed to stretch out his hamstring. 

“What did you have?”

“Chicken and chorizo pasta.”

“Can I have some of that, please? It sounds so good right now.”

There was a muffled sound, crossed between a sarcastic scoff and a snort of laughter, “No. You absolutely cannot have it right now–”

“No–”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do your dressing first. C’mon.”

Mia groaned, pulling the duvet back up to her chin to give her some protection before Nate would undoubtedly just rip it off her and pick her up, like he had the past four times he’d changed her dressing. The first time she did it there was little resistance from her end, mostly because she had no idea that cleaning the wound was going to be that nauseating, but also because she literally couldn’t be bothered trying to resist a hockey player that boarded men twice her size on a regular basis. 

Now, though? Not only did she despise the entire process, but she couldn’t deny the fact that being difficult was rather amusing for her – mostly because of how Nate handled it, because he handles it. She’s never heard him talk so much yet so calmly all whilst trying to scoop her up without simultaneously accidentally hurting her.

“-five seconds and it’ll be done until tomorrow, and if you think about it–”  he made his way around to Mia’s side of the bed and she felt her face screw up in dread almost automatically when he began trying to tug at the duvet she’d gripped as tightly as she could, “-if you really think about it, the food is kind of like a reward, and it’s better to get it done now rather than spend the next, like, forty minutes worrying about it–” he sighed, cutting himself off and staring at the scene in front of him. Mia knew him well enough to know stillness and silence meant he was thinking.

“What are you–Put me down.” Mia watched as Barney scurried off the bed, the duvet disappearing under him as Nate managed to force his arms underneath her body to lift her up, duvet and all. 

“Never.” He breathed in her ear before laughing like a Disney villain, managing to somehow look down at his feet to make sure he didn’t trip and cause another trip to the ER, and no matter how much she moaned and groaned, Nate didn’t put her down until he’d made it to the bathroom and placed her ever-so-gently on top of the lid of the toilet.

It was cold against the plastic, much colder than the sanctuary of the bed with a dog cuddled up to her side, and Mia shivered in her shorts and t-shirt, goosebumps arising on her skin – something that didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Nate. He took one look at her shivering and opened the bathroom blinds to let in some dull, natural light before turning around and grabbing a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the floor he hadn’t had chance to tidy away, what with the hustle and bustle of trying to look after everyone (not that he minded; in fact, Nate loved looking after Mia, even though he’d never voice it, but the circumstances surrounding the situation were a little too shitty for his liking), and tossed it to her.

What he really wanted to do was tell her to lift her arms over her head, but he knew coddling someone who already hated people doing things for them would only make the irritation worse, and instead reached for the basket of supplies he’d been given from the hospital, along with the set of instructions and the bowl for Mia as a ‘just in case’...the last thing anyone wanted, including Barney, was a repeat of the first time he’d done this. 

He could still picture it so clearly in his head.

When he turned back around, trying to read the pamphlet by moonlight and garden-light, Mia had her eyes closed and was running her fingers through her hair, wincing each time she accidentally pulled a knot. 

He couldn’t help watching her for a moment, almost mesmerised that someone could power through that amount of pain administered by themselves. Gosh, he loved her to smithereens.

“You ready?” He propped himself on the edge of the bathtub, back hunched over slightly to get himself eye-level with the plaster stuck to her temple. It was thick, most likely incredibly uncomfortable, and half-stuck in her hair. It was the only way the stitches into her hairline would be protected when she was laid down, or doing anything, really.

She nodded, and he kept his eyes fixated on her side profile, eager to drink in any possible changes in her expression that meant she was uncomfortable with anything he did. Sometimes it was a miniscule scrunch of her brows, other times it was an involuntary wince displayed by her mouth. He’d noticed her breathing changed when she was in pain too, which was a rather odd thing to come to recognise – watching someone you cared about hurt was one thing, but to watch them be in pain so constantly that you can recognise the little things? It was strange.

“I’m so hungry.” Was all she said, scooping her hair to the other side as he leant forwards to start to pick at one of the edges. It didn’t take much. He wasn’t even sure if Mia was aware she was doing it, but there was one edge right above her cheekbone that had been so obviously picked at that all he really had to do was grab onto the corner and slowly and cautiously pull. He kept one palm on the side of her head at all times, ensuring her hair remained out of the stickiness, his eyes darting from what he was doing to her face every few seconds.

Once he’d removed the plaster completely he folded it in half, balancing it on the side of the bath before doing something he’d not been able to do yet: dampen a clean washcloth with water, and gently dab the stitches. 

Mia’s face contorted almost immediately, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her mouth pulled up at the corners in a grimace, but she held still, keeping her gaze level and forward, hands clutching the bowl on her lap.

“Let me know if you want me to take a break or if I’m pressing too hard, okay?” Nate murmured softly, still dabbing at the wound.

He was never really one to be able to stomach the sight of wounds – at games he didn’t really have a choice, but at least then he could avert his eyes when he saw something that made his stomach turn and his head spin. This time was a little bit different, in fact, this entire situation was completely different because it was one thing thinking about it and another thing doing it for Mia. He had to do this, partly because he wasn’t about to let Mia do it herself, but mostly because he didn’t trust anyone else not to press too hard or to take as much care in the job as he did. It wasn’t a lot, but he made sure he did it right and softly.

It was the absolute least he could do after sneaking away for an hour here and there to practise. Mel Landeskog had offered to come over and keep watch when he wasn’t there, and the entire time he was gone he’d been anxiously checking his phone a hundred times a minute, waiting for a heart-stopping message to come through, and he hadn't managed to tear himself away again. The guilt was one thing, but the anxiety just ate him up from the inside. 

Tomorrow he decided he’d just work out in the bedroom – at least it’d give Mia something to watch when the TV was off-limits. 

“You’re doing great.” Mia sighed, peeling open the eye closest to him and shooting an amused glance in his direction. She was exhausted, but she still managed to find the effort bother to ease his concerns, “I think tomorrow…” She trailed off, silently hissing when Nate dabbed the laceration once more.

“Sorry.” He cringed, putting the washcloth down.

“It’s fine. Tomorrow I wanna move downstairs.” She got out, relaxing once she’d taken note of the put away cloth, and turned her body towards him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with his face but it was clearly something that warranted Mia to start spouting words so quickly he wasn’t entirely sure she was able to do with that bad of a concussion, “The curtains in the front room can stay shut but I kind of want to slowly let myself get used to some light again, and I won’t watch TV or anything.” 

He swallowed, going to pick up the dry washcloth, “What’s wrong with staying in bed?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s shit, I feel like I’m missing out on what’s going on.”

Nate tilted his head curiously, “Nothing’s going on, though. Are you trying to tell me you’ve got FOMO from staying in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. I feel like our living room is, like, the life of this house. Everything happens downstairs.” She reasoned, returning back to her usual position when he raised the washcloth.

“Everything, huh?” He breathed, slowly wiping away the beads of water on her stitches, and those that had escaped and ran down to her jaw, “Guess that means you’ll have to camp out on the couch then. Can't have you miss anything, can we?”

Mia rolled her eyes, and Nate smirked to himself, pleased that she was clearly well enough to tolerate a bit of humour. It was the most alive she’d looked since it happened: she had more colour in her cheeks, something he’d even noticed through the constant darkness; her awake periods were longer than her asleep periods, and she was speaking more. Granted, that was an improvement from that very morning, but she was getting better at a quicker rate than he’d anticipated. Every hour seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, at least until he remembered–

Yep. There it is. The painful twinge of guilt that always seemed to strike him when he least expected it.

He swallowed anxiously, suddenly aware of a breeze against his torso and the faint tugging of his cotton shirt. The distance from where he was sitting on the edge of the bath to the toilet seat where Mia was sitting wasn’t a large one by any means, but it was still tricky enough for him to sit on the very edge to ensure he wasn’t stretching – it was why he had to look down at the culprit, half-expecting it to be Barney slobbering everywhere, and was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar hand trying to get his attention.

He pulled his own hand away from Mia’s head, placing the cloth on the side of the bath once he was satisfied the stitches were dry again before turning back to Mia to give her his full attention. She hadn’t bothered to turn her head, but was instead looking at him out of the corner of her eye, brow narrowed and a slightly suspicious look on her face.

“What?” He asked, automatically wiping at his cheek, expecting a streak of dirt to follow on his palm. Nothing.

Mia just blinked, “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out for a bit then.”

“Spaced out?” He echoed, shaking his head. 

Mia hummed, something subtly changing in her expression, “Away with the fairies.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He raised his brows before letting them drop. He wondered briefly if she was buying his ‘chill’ persona at that moment, hidden in the dark with no real way of knowing what face he was pulling. His back was to the light so he knew he was mostly shrouded in darkness – protected from an observant eye.

The same observant eye that clearly didn’t let up, no matter how splotchy her memory or how much pain she was in, because he heard her tilt her head at him, he heard her brain call him a ‘liar’ and he heard her breathe an internal sigh.

“I’m fine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. The action felt pathetic, like something a stroppy teenager might do after getting scolded. 

Her silence said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I am. I guess I’m just coming to terms with the fact that this is how awful you must feel when I’m in your position after a game.” He mumbled it, but Mia still managed to pick his words out pretty easily – as well as the blatant pretence he immediately then displayed when he turned his attention purposefully to the basket at his feet, bending to pick up a tub of vaseline before taking the lid off and washing his hands once more.

She knew enough to know that when he acted nonchalant after admitting something was bothering him, no matter how little a thing it might seem, that sometimes he just needed that extra little dose of reassurance.

“At least you can understand why I banned you from getting head injuries, then.” She answered, turning herself so she was facing forwards once more, allowing him access to the stitches.

Nate paused, an uncertain ‘meh’ falling out of his mouth, which earned him an incredibly sharp look, “I mean I can, but now I could probably guess you get why I can’t promise you anything because most of these head injuries come from other people.” He was met with silence but he could feel the irritation practically emanating off Mia. Whenever he was right in situations where they’d had small disagreements here and there, usually about some pedantic aspect like this one, she always went dead-silent when he brought up something true. It wasn’t necessarily that she hadn’t thought of it, because the chances were that she had and it was that thing that drove her crazy, but it was knowing what she was asking was completely out of anyone’s control.

“Oh, and for the record,” Nate started, carefully spreading the vaseline against her skin and fighting the uncomfortable tingling in his toes when he ran his finger over the stitches, “I’m also banning you from getting head injuries.”

“I can try.”

He grinned, “‘S all I ask.”

“Me too.”

***

Mia wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing his little…routine. 

Every time he left a room she was in, whether it was to go to another room to pick something up and bring it back or to leave the house entirely, he’d started doing some odd things. First he’d watch her – this, she noticed him doing out of the corner of her eye – like he was giving her a once-over with a pair of X-Ray goggles, no matter how far away from her he was. Then, he’d pretend to look for something, a tissue, maybe, that just happened to be within a five foot radius of where she was sitting, and he used that ploy as an excuse to ‘walk by’ and plant a very quick kiss on the top of her head.

It might not seem odd to anyone else, but it was odd to Mia, mostly because Nate was never really the type to do stuff like that, much less when he was simply leaving the room. He might have done it if she was busy with something and he was off to the gym for an hour or two, but never for simple things. He just wasn’t that type of person.

At first she’d thought nothing of it. Maybe he just liked having her downstairs instead of shut up in the bedroom in the dark all day? That was certainly plausible. 

But then each time he did it, the action seemed to become more noticeable. Like when you hear something irritating in the background – a bird or a screechy voice – and then when you try to block it out your ears seem completely intent on honing in on that one singular thing until it becomes so glaringly obvious and unignorable that you just can’t stand it anymore. The only difference was that Mia could tolerate it, she could definitely tolerate it, in fact she welcomed it. Not only was it a rare and casual display of affection, but it was rare that they’d both be off work for this length of time and be in the house together. 

It was usually an impossible juggle of calendars and flights.

Then, because she’d noticed his little routine, she waited for it. There were a couple of times where he’d carried it out before he even announced he was leaving, a couple of times where he said where he was going first, and then – most interestingly – there were several occasions where he’d stepped out of the room, not said anything, frozen a step out of the doorway and come striding back in with intent and purpose before kissing her on the mouth or cheek depending on what she was doing. It was like he physically couldn’t stomach the thought of not completing his ritual.

It was remarkably similar to his behaviour on game days: he had a minute by minute schedule and order to do things so deeply ingrained in his mind that completing one thing slightly differently would throw everything off completely. He’d obsess over one thing and he wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he’d done it ‘right’, or he’d take it as a sign something bad was going to happen. 

One time he’d almost burnt the chicken in the oven and managed to assume that because he’d eaten burnt chicken (Mia had argued that it was charred nicely – properly done) that his pregame coffee wouldn’t have the same effect and he’d accidentally let his bowels go on the ice, and he’d be worrying about it for the entire game.

There was also the habit he’d taken to performing on Mia’s matchdays, at least when he was there to do it. He’d wake up around the same time Mia did and he insisted on filling her water bottle ready to go and he insisted on seeing her out the door (a kiss accompanied with a rather humorous but altogether fond, “kill ‘em”). If she was being completely honest, Mia found more familiarity in his behaviour this time around with her pre-game thing.

“Alright, come on.” It was Nate’s voice as he threw his car keys up and down, the metal jangling as he somehow materialised right in front of Mia, holding a hand out for her to grab. 

She paused, staring for a moment before following his arm to his face, raising a confused eyebrow. 

Come on? Come on where? As far as she was aware they didn’t have any plans, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have plans considering her brain detested any kind of light brighter than a golden, dim one you might find in a lamp – and that wasn’t even mentioning noise. Anything louder than Barney’s huffing was a no-go if she wanted to have a headache-free day, and that very much included talking.

Nate had never been so quiet around her before, and she couldn’t deny the fact that it was amusing to watch him go to talk before remembering he had to whisper. He’d open his mouth and make a noise, the first sound in a word, and immediately clamp his mouth shut and hunch his shoulders, almost wincing for Mia. 

“Hospital.” Nate murmured softly, splaying his palm to encourage her to take it, and Mia’s mind went blank.

It must have showed on her face because Nate swallowed, the smile on his face diminishing, a rather helpless, “Remember? Your stitches are getting taken out today.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Mia blinked, the lie shockingly falling out of her mouth before she could catch it, “And today is…”

“Wednesday.” Whatever trace of a smile was left on his face that hadn’t already been wiped was completely gone, replaced by concerned brows and a flat line of a mouth.

“Yeah.” Mia didn’t say anything else, mostly out of fear of stressing him out even more, but partly because she wasn’t sure what else could be said.

She reached for his waiting hand, the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, and it was only as she’d stood up – perhaps a little too quickly because the blood rushed to her head – that she could recognise the look on his face was a little more familiar. He was still getting used to the usual worries of watching someone else heal.

“Confusion and brain fog is pretty normal, y’know?” He framed it like a question, but they both knew he was reassuring the little voice in both their heads that screamed something deeper was clearly wrong. Mia just nodded, accepting the baseball cap, eye mask and sunshades he’d just handed her, trying her best not to wobble when he ever-so-carefully tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

There was something about his close proximity that she’d had to endure within the last few days that subtly changed something for her – maybe it was the vulnerability of this entire ordeal; she’d reached a new level of Nate having to look after her considering the fact that she was almost fully dependent on him. In her eyes a switch had been flicked somewhere, and their relationship had just rocketed upwards in intensity. Every little glance he’d snuck at her, even if it was just to check to see if she was okay, and every little thoughtful gesture he’d carried out, all combined with the closer proximity and steady, reassuring hand made her feel a little woozy in a completely different way.

It was why she hurriedly put the cap on so she wouldn’t have to look at him, because she knew what those damned pale blue eyes were doing, and also why she didn’t bother asking about the eye mask, although the use of that became abundantly clear when she climbed into the car.

He wanted to hide the sun for her.

***

“What about your memory? Has any of that changed for you yet, or do you still have those same holes we identified earlier?” 

Mia winced, taking the hand offered to her and squeezed, determined not to look like she was in too much pain. The doctor that was removing her stitches was doing an alright job (she thought at least, she couldn’t say she was an expert), but there was something almost nauseating about the tugging she could feel on the side of her head, especially with how sore and tender her temple already was. 

And the questions weren’t helping, not at all. 

She inhaled through her nose, fighting to keep her voice even, “Some of it’s changed, I guess.” Nate squeezed back three times, “I can remember more of that morning and the lead up days, but I still have moments where I…it’s brain fog, I guess.”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor voiced, and the lack of shock and concern in their voice almost had Mia raising a celebratory fist, “that’s understandable and expected, just as long as it wasn’t anything too important or too obvious?”

“No, I just forgot what day it was.”

The doctor let out a low chuckle, “I think we’ve all been there. There’s nothing like showing up for work on your off-day because you’d been so busy you forgot to check the date. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“Tell me about it.” Mia muttered under her breath, almost deaf to the low laughs from both sides of her as she kept her eyes screwed shut. The blinds in the room were all open, and to top that off the doctor had one of those head torches on, the light glaring even through her closed eyelids. It kept bouncing around her vision as they moved their head, presumably to look at the tray to their right and then to look back at Mia’s head and so on, and she could feel the familiar niggle of something start to prick at the back of her head.

“Okay, stitches are out. Just one moment and I’ll shut the blinds for you.” She felt her own shoulders deflate of their own accord, the tension quite literally seeping out of her once she heard the wheel of the office chair followed by the pair of footsteps walking towards the windows.

It was only when the room appeared to be enveloped in darkness that she opened her eyes. Nate had the stitch-care pamphlet in his hand again, a pen in the pocket of his shirt, and even as the doctor was explaining the next steps for care he wasn’t opting to write much down. Mia half suspected he’d already done extensive research and memorised the care leaflets anyway, but he was always gonna be drinking in information from someone more qualified than what his laptop told him.

The grip he had on her hand had loosened, and the more she looked at him, Mia could see that it was his shoulders that seemed to be tense. It almost looked as though her uncomfortability had been passed directly to him because he was sitting pinstraight in the chair pulled up and he looked so dead serious Mia felt the urge to poke him in the ribs. Let him know he needed to chill a bit more.

It wasn’t anything the doctor was saying, in fact, it couldn’t have been anything the doctor was saying because that body language and that stern, rather timid look on his face didn’t let up, not even three hours later when Mia had curled up on the couch and Nate had taken residence wedged at the other end with a bowl of food – Mia’s to be precise. He’d given her too much and she couldn’t finish it without thinking it was all gonna come back up later, so he’d hoovered up the last of it.

He still looked on edge about something.

So she poked him with her foot, toes meeting a solid thigh.

He chewed, the muscles in his jaw working as his neck snapped to look at her. There was a slight crack in his demeanour then, that brief moment where he thought she was getting his attention for the worst kind of reason, but it had dissolved before she could dwell on it too much.

“Why are you being weird?” She asked, tilting her head and faking an overly suspicious glance that had him freezing right where he was.

His eyes darted across her face, seemingly searching for something to grab on to, but when he came up with nothing he finished his mouthful and shook his head, fiercely denying her accusation.

“I’m not being weird.” He mumbled, a crease between his brows.

Mia pulled a face, “You’re being so weird.”

“How am I being weird?”

Mia gaped, eyes darting to his bowl when his hand trembled and his fork clinked against the porcelain. That one little weakness was enough proof because he blinked at his hand before almost comically turning towards Mia, his cheeks a little red.

“That for one.” Mia pointed out, “And that thing you do when you leave the room, what’s that about? And you were being super weird at the doctor's appointment the other day.”

He huffed a laugh, still staring at her incredulously, “Aren’t you chatty today?”

“I feel so much better.”

“Can tell, you haven’t shut up.”

“I’ve got, like, two weeks of talking to get out of my system, don’t I?” She paused, taking a breath, “Even so, you haven’t answered my question.” Another foot poke.

He hesitated, before ultimately deciding to put his bowl on the coffee table in front of them. Mia watched every move carefully, a hint of foreboding settling in her bones as he reached over to mute the TV. She thought breaching the topic of Nate’s weirdness wouldn’t bring this level of wracked nerves, or this unreached height of seriousness – there wasn’t anything she was aware of that warranted him to do all of those things and then also turn to face her.

“Okay, so, you know how you couldn’t remember stuff after the head injuries, and then you said you could remember stuff at the hospital?” 

Mia nodded, cemented in her spot, unable to say anything.

“How much do you remember of the night before?” 

Mia had seen movies like this: whenever a character asked a question of that gravity with that grave, worried expression on their face, there was always a catastrophic confession coming next.

The difference between those kinds of movie scenes and this one was that Mia remembered the night before. And none of what she remembered would require this level of…solemnity. At all. Absolutely none of it.

She came home from work, they both talked about their days, a movie with dinner, then bedtime. Nothing spectacular.

“Everything.” She said, and this time it was her turn to frown, “Why?”

Nate inhaled, scratching his chin unsurely, before looking her straight in the eye, and with a completely flat voice spat out – with conviction – “I think we’re fighting.”

Mia waited for a moment, just the one, thinking maybe he’d say he was joking or he’d take it back, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to, she laughed.

He had to be joking.

And the fact that he let out a few breaths of laughter himself made her think that he was, but all of that came to a grinding halt when he shut up and instead patted her shin sympathetically, no trace of amusement on his face whatsoever. 

“I’m being serious, sweetheart.”

Mia sighed, the aching in her head returning. The headaches from the concussion had started to subside lately, and the stitches on her temple were healing nicely, it was just the bump that still ached from time to time, from where she’d fallen on the ground. The lump was still there, it was a bit more stubborn than her shoulder and everything else.

“You think we’re fighting or you know?”

He shrugged, “You told me about LA and we–we fought.”

“About LA?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“How do you remember it?”

***

“What did you say?”

Nate froze, the blood in his body going cold at what Mia had just said, and so offhandedly, too. Like it wasn’t this big thing that could change things. Mia had her back to him, licking some honey sauce off a finger before putting on the oven gloves and placing the tray in the oven.

“I told them I’d think about it but I’m gonna say no.” Mia practically rolled her eyes.

In what world would she have said yes? Really. She couldn’t even begin to picture a new life in LA, and for that the answer she’d given them on the phone then and there was a sure ‘no’. She knew without even having to talk to anyone else or think too much about it to know what she was going to do. It had really been that easy.

And, rather naively, Mia had assumed Nate would also have known that.

Only, when she spun on her heel after shutting the oven door, Nate had a strange look on his face: he’d come from a full day of training in the gym so naturally he looked a little haggard anyway – pink cheeks, tired eyes – but that didn’t explain the deep furrow between his brows or the fractional tilt of his head or the unpursed mouth. No, that all equated to confusion, Mia had seen him wear that exact face before. And in this case, his confusion pertained to that of her own loyalty. 

He breathed a short laugh, a ‘huh’, and Mia put one hand on her hip, raising a brow.

“Why?” His voice was tentative, but there was a hint of curiosity that Mia dreaded to wonder the cause of.

“Does it matter?” She heard her voice waver, pitch higher and her metaphorical hackles raise in defence. 

She’d never felt that before with Nate.

He shrugged, moving to sit on an island stool, hands clasped together in front of him, forearms pressed against the marble. His hair looked blonder in the harsh lighting, almost blinding, and when he looked up to speak Mia had to avert her eyes, “Not necessarily,” there was a ‘but’ coming, Mia could sense it, “but what were the conditions?”

Mia shrugged, “Three years to start and a bit more money.”

“How much more?”

Mia felt her eyes widen, “Not a lot. Why are you so interested in this?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you and I want to know where your head’s at.” He blurted it all out after one miniscule moment of hesitation, it couldn’t have been more than half a second, and if it weren’t for the way his hands fell flat against the marble in a display of clear honesty, Mia might have thought he had an ulterior motive.

His contract only had one season left, too. It was a pretty damn odd time for two athletes in Colorado, especially when both of their futures were kind of up in the air. It went without saying that Nate wanted to stay and Mia wanted to stay, but there was also that incredibly slim chance that neither of them did, and they were both a little too afraid to even broach the subject of what would happen if someone got to stay and the other didn’t.

And whether she realised it or not, the ‘can I think about it?’ that had fallen from her mouth when she’d first gotten the LA call – even despite knowing the answer already – had been because of that. She needed a contingency, she needed to go to Colorado with proof that she was wanted elsewhere if she wanted to fight to stay.

And if it weren’t for his hands then, Mia would have stayed at her own side of the counter. Instead, she made her way around to him, pulled her own stool out next to his and twisted her body so she was facing him, her knees knocking gently against the side of his thigh.

“I want to stay in Colorado. I love it here, I have my family, I have my friends, teammates, a dog, you. I have an entire life and the last thing I’d want is to leave it all behind for more money in LA. We’re not exactly short of it in the first place, and it’s not my priority.” She said, as firmly and as gently as she could muster. There was a lull, Nate looking at her carefully, chewing the inside of his lip.

His eyes were darting across the planes of her face as though he was searching for hints of something he’d never find. It was only when she stuck her tongue out at him that he leant on his elbow, his head pointed in her direction.

“And your priority is…”

“Me, I guess. I want to be happy.”

He nodded, “And you’re happy here?”

Mia smiled, “I’m happy here. In Colorado. In this house. In this kitchen. On this chair. With you.” 

It was almost as though the smile on his own face was there without ever really being known to him; the corners of his mouth were turned down but his face was smiling, as though the blush on his cheeks had frozen the rest of him.

“With me?”

“I’m surprised too.” 

***

“Yeah, and then you didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night and you left without saying goodbye and the next time I see you you’re on a hospital bed.” He threw his arms up in a questioning manner, a deeply confused half-smile, half-scowl as Mia recoiled, having severe difficulty in trying to understand his perspective.

“I didn’t ignore you, okay? We were watching a movie and I was tired.” 

Nate spluttered, briefly turning away before turning back to face Mia, who was now grinning like she knew something he didn’t, “What about in the morning?”

“Easy explanation.” Mia shrugged, “I told Iona about the LA offer and she called me at six in the morning to get me into the office to finalise contract terms with Colorado.”

Nate opened his mouth, about to say something before he stopped. He was about to ask why he wasn’t woken up, but at that exact moment his brain seemed to digest the latter half of what was said.

Finalise contract terms with Colorado.

And then he was talking without his brain really knowing what he was saying, “Wait, you finalised a contract with Colorado?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty much the same deal as what LA offered.”

“How similar?”

Mia raised a mischievous brow, and Nate knew what was going to be said next was about to blow his mind. When she looked at him like that, something was gonna happen, and he felt his heart quicken for an entirely different reason than what he’d become used to lately – anticipation. The good kind.

“Five years and a little bit more per annum than what LA offered.”

He blinked. Heart beat six times before he found the breath in his lungs and the voice in his throat, “Five years?” His voice wavered completely against his will, it came out all breathy and mushy, and he wasn’t in control of his own bodily reactions to the load of relief that had cleared itself from his shoulders, not even when he felt his eyes begin to prick with emotion again.

Mia’s smile diminished at his reaction, it didn’t disappear, but the edges were a little softer, more understanding, perhaps. She’d been through a lot lately: hospital appointments, days in bed in pain, meetings with her people, recovery plans, and the one thing she’d been able to rely on this entire time was the big softie sitting right in front of her, getting uncharacteristically emotional at the prospect of her signing on for another five years.

And Mia knew how his mind worked. He’d probably been preparing himself for some part of his life to change, whether it be him moving out of state or Mia moving out of state – so much so that he probably hadn’t been able to let himself even think about both of them staying. There had been a countdown in his head for months.

“Yeah.” She answered, reaching out to grab his forearm. Somewhere in the midst of the clarification conversation he’d turned to sit straight, limbs locked against his torso and hands placed neatly in his lap. She pulled the nearest forearm over to her, using as much of her strength as she could possibly muster, listening to the aching of her shoulder and patting him to get the message across, and he turned his head to look at her again, a watery smile on his face as he lifted his shoulder up and tugged her into his side.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?” He pressed his forehead to the corner of hers, incredibly mindful of any soreness that he knew to still persist, and slumped against the cushions of the couch so he was more laid, legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

Mia rolled her eyes fondly, comfortably adjusting herself in his embrace. Even with a short sleeved t-shirt he was warm – kind of like a massive human teddy bear. Always a great hugger, something she’d actually missed the last couple of weeks, “I haven't signed the contract yet, I was a bit preoccupied after the match.”

She felt him pull away, and when she turned to look at him, his eyes had cleared, that familiar bright blue almost dazzling in the light, and he wore an expression of chagrin, “Hey, I know we talked about it earlier, but you’re really not allowed to get a head concussion again, ever. That shit’s way too scary.”

Mia just levelled him with a knowing expression and he read it easily, muttering a heartfelt, “Congratulations, honey. You’re stuck with me for another five years.”

[matthewswifeee]

Truth or Dare

When a game of truth or dare turns into round two for you and Matt...

THIS IS MY FIRST STORY ON HERE LMK IF YALL WANT MORE... . . .

It was a typical night here in Boston for you and your group of friends which consisted of the five of you getting food, watching movies, playing games and having fun silly conversations. Tonight you guys picked some random movie that just came out on Netflix and it was really not good at all.

"This shit is so boring" Chris states and we all agree. "Lets watch something else" Nick suggests picking up the TV remote. "No" Matt says grabbing the remote from Nick and causing a mini argument. "How about we play a game or something" Nate says trying to get the two of them to stop.

"What do yall wanna play" Nick asks looking at Chris, Nate and myself. Chris and I both turn our heads to Nathan since he's the one who suggested we play a game in the first place. "Mmm... truth or dare" Nate says and we all agree. We have a box of truth or dare cards since every time we play we tend to ask each other the same things over and over.

"Nick you start" I say placing the two decks of cards in front of the five of us who are circled around the table. "Truth" he says and Chris picks up the card and reads it. "What is you biggest regret" Chris reads and we all kinds laugh given that that's the first question. "Probably being a triplet" he states jokingly making Matt and Chris bot roll their eyes as Nate and I laugh with Nick. "You're an idiot" Matt says shaking his head at Nick.

"(Y/n) truth or dare" Nate asks. "Dare". "Ok um- oh" Nate says not reading the card aloud. "What" Matt says taking the card out of his hand the he chuckles and reads the card. "Share a spicy photo with the group" Matt reads showing the rest of us the card. I shrug my shoulders and pull out my phone looking for a photo that wasn't to much to show them. I show them a picture of me in a pink lace set then we move on with our game, I mean what's the big deal they see me in a bikini all the time.

We play for a while with some pretty crazy questions coming out of the truth deck with some questionable dares as well.

"Ok ok I pick truth this time" I say trying to get the boys to stop complaining about the fact that I've picked dare this entire time and haven't answered any questions. "What was the best and worst part about losing your virginity" Nick reads off the card, I was a little hesitant at first since the guy I lost it to is sitting directly across the table from me. "Hello" Chris says as I just sit there blank faced.

"Hmm best part was that he made me feel like safe and as comfortable as I could've been.... and worst probably the sex in general but it was also his first time too" I answer and my eyes quickly dart across the table to Matt whos face is a bit red, probably because I just answered that about him. Nate knew about Matt and I hooking up but Chris and Nick had no clue.

We eventually stopped playing truth or dare and all went up into Chris' room to play fortnite. We all were taking turns playing the game with each other and Matt slips out without any of the other boys noticing. I decide that its best if I go and check on him just to make sure he isn't mad about earlier.

"Hey are you ok" I ask stepping into the open door way across the hall from Chris' room. "All good" Matt responds with a light smile. "Can I sit down" I ask and he nods his head so I shut the door and sit down on his bed. "You ok" Matt asks looking up from his phone. "Yea...yea im good, I just um.. I wanted to make sure you weren't upset about what I said earlier" I say trying my best not to make things weird. "Its fine, I know I could make you scream now" He say nonchalantly making my eyes go wide, shocked at the words that just came out of his mouth. "What" he says turning off his phone and tossing it on the bed somewhere as he places his hands on my thighs.

We both lean in and share a long hungry kiss, "Well lets see" I say as Matt pushes me back on to his bed. He quickly gets up and locks the door before hovering over me and reconnecting our lips. He slowly starts to trail rough kisses down my neck to my boobs. He starts lightly sucking on one of my breasts while holding down my hips with his hands and my hands find their way to his dark messy hair.

"M-matt" I moan slightly and feel him smirk against me and start sucking a little harder. "Let's get this off" Matt says before pulling the tight black tank top over my head and tossing it somewhere but keeping my bra on. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my blue fresh love sweatpants and slides them down then starts rubbing me through my panties.

"Look at you soaked already and I didn't even do anything" he huffs while looking down at me. I look up at him and see nothing but lust in his big blue eyes. He kisses me one more time before moving back between my legs. "I cant wait to taste you again" Matt says as he takes me underwear off and throws the somewhere. He spreads my legs far enough apart to shove his face between them and start licking my pussy. He shakes his head in an attempt to get further in between my legs which makes me arch my back pushing myself closer to him. Unlike the last time Matt ate me out he is so confident in his movements and knows exactly what he doing making me a moaning mess. I continue to moan loudly until Matt pulls away.

"You have to be a good girl and stay quiet unless you want everyone to hear you" he says looking up at me, I try my best to keep quiet but I literally can not I've never felt this good before. "That's it" Matt says as he pulls away away from my heat. "Get up" he says helping me stand before pushing me on to the edge of the bed on all fours. "Since you cant shut the fuck up" Matt says grabbing a pillow and putting in beneath my head. "Ass up" he says making me arch my back and he pushes my face into the pillow as he slowly slides into me.

He begins to slowly thrust into me with his hands gripping my waist. With every thrust and starts going faster and faster hitting my g-spot every single time causing me to moan in extreme pleasure. He grabs a handful of my hair pulling me toward him so that now my back is almost resting on the front of his body, he then wraps his other arm around me and starts rubbing my clit. "Fuck Matt" I continue to moan loudly. "I-I'm I'm gonna cum" I yell barely getting out the words. "Not yet baby" Matt grunts in my ear.

He then flips me over and pushes me onto the bed on my back before lining himself up at my entrance and quickly thrusting back into me feeling even better then before. "Fuck (y/n) you feel so good" he moans in my ear making me want to cum even more. "Look at me" Matt says pressing his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes as I continue to almost scream underneath of him. "Cum all over my dick" he says giving me permission. "OHHH MATT" I moan loudly. "Come on baby cum for me" he says pressing down on my lower stomach making me finish feeling different then I ever have before. He thrusts a few more times making my entire body shake from how overstimulated I am. He continues to stare into my eyes before I hear him let out a loud moan and I feel him fill me up with his cum.

"Well you definitely weren't screaming my name last time" He says out of breath. "And you definitely didn't sound like that last time" I say covering myself with the blanket on his unmade bed. "Didn't know you were a squirter.. that wat hot" he says pulling my leg over top of his naked torso as I feel my cheeks heat up." You were so good (y/n)" Matt says as I lay my head on his chest.

Next Morning**

I wake up still naked in Matt's bed cuddled up with him, I grab my phone to look at the time and see that its almost 2pm. "Matt wake up" I say shaking him a bit before I see his eyes open. "Its the middle of the day" I say as he rubs his eyes. I get up and find all the my clothes then I get dressed and wait for Matt to get dressed before going downstairs with him.

"Yall really couldn't shut the fuck up last night" Chris says and I feel nothing but embarrassment knowing that they all heard me literally screaming Matt's name. "Had to redeem myself" Matt says shrugging his shoulders and opening the refrigerator.

[justin-chapmanswers]

If you don't mind me asking, is there any old Inanimate Insanity video that isn't available, lost media if you will. The only thing I can think of is the audition for fan character in season 1, it was mention on episode 5.5 and the Taco Show. I wonder if there is a way to view these video again, maybe saved somewhere. I think they are important part of the history of the show, but I understand if you don't want to reupload these video.

Golly golly. I think that pre-5.5 video is the main loss in terms of things that never got saved anywhere, especially before the hacking/deletion incident. There's also no record of the Inanimate Insanity Audition video, but that was on DuncanEpic not AnimationEpic. Nothing crazy about it, but a neat little archival of all the original character designs and requested audition lines. Bonus would be if there were video responses also still embedded, I watched all of those auditions back in 2011 so many times to see if I felt I could be the frontrunner for any of the roles.

Paper also gets the short end of the stick haha. Nothing that was uploaded, but I recorded two or three things for him in that 2011-2012 window that were started and never made. There was a short written/voiced with the start of animation starring Paper that I really remember super little about. Except for like... I him having a tough day and then tumbling down a hill. He was also the main guest on The Taco Show 2 (I think it was going to start inviting each contestant on to guest after their elimination?). Also don't remember anything from that script except for the fact that Knife was introduced late as Taco's bodyguard and he had to forcibly remove Paper from the premises. Paper had a repeated string of bad luck in all of these, which by-coincidence was replicated with the gag someone added into FFF 4.

And of course can't forget the Friday (Rebecca Black) cover music video that was organized by Nate Groth and started animation. Starring Balloon, with his pals Nickel and Knife. Good times.

But yes! The recommended character video you mentioned earlier, that was a FINALIZED gem lost to time when the April-August 2011 slate was wiped from the channel. STORYTIME.

Adam was going away to camp for the Summer, and he left Nate Groth and me with channel access and each a different responsibility. Nate was to create from scratch the entire video that asks the audience to submit a recommended character for consideration to join the game. Nate and I would pick the ten concepts we liked the most, Adam would pick which of the ten joined the game. It was like a five minute video narrated by Knife explaining everything.

Meanwhile, just Adam gave me episode 5 to upload on August 1st (in a time before scheduled videos). And Nate was not having it.

Nate felt like getting to upload an actual episode as opposed to the recommended character video was a MUCH cooler job. Envious, while Adam was away at camp and in the days leading up to August 1st, Nate changed the password to the account and locked me out in protest. I had to calmly address the situation, remind him of how awesome his recommended character video is, and assure him he can do the next episode upload whenever Adam cannot do it (which would of course never come to fruition cause he was only on the team for another month or so).

Nate shared the password and the episode got out on time, but Adam was frustrated with what happened and understandably locked out everyone else from the account. Nate, of course, got back into the account via (admittedly easy) security questions a few weeks later in his next fit of rage and deleted all of the videos- ironically, erasing his own video creation for all time.

[skullcandy11111198]

Leveragetober23 Day 12: pride

Parker is singing again. It's kinda creepy, but the group isn't willing to call them out on it.

Bigots can try, but they will fry.

Over and over and over again.

The taser sparks. Everyone shuffles back, just a little bit. No one makes eye contact.

Eliot goes back to hauling away the still twitching body while Hardison goes through the man's phone. Ostensibly, it's to see what he knew about them and what his mission was. Really, it's just so he can leave Parker to it. He loves his partner, really, but sometimes his person is whoo boy, as Nana would say. He leaves Parker to it. They grin and start the chorus over again, stroking the handheld lightning stick.

Really, it's not like the group was doing any crimes right now, anyway! Anyone with any sense could see that! Unless there is an apocalyptic level job that just absolutely needs to be taken care of, the founders of Leverage International never seem to work in June. So why all of these people have come out of the woodwork to try to arrest them, or capture them, or whatever it is they are trying to do, right now?? They're not having it. And of course, everyone is decked out in their colors, with all the pins and patches and paint to match, so people have made some stupid comments. But they learned.

Really, just try and stop Parker. Oh, that's right, you can't. Because they have a taser and a goal.

Originally, it was just Sophie's vacation. Every June, she would take the month off and go swanning off somewhere that no one else knew about. Nate tried to follow her a few times, but when Sophie doesn't want to be found, she was not. After a while, though, she opened up, and it turns out the big secret is that she charts out all of the major pride parades across the world and just spends the month country hopping, joining in on every celebration of pride she can.

Once the group found out, it sort of became a family outing. Everyone learned a lot about each other that they didn't know before, all they were all closer for it.

Sophie is a raging pansexual. That woman has got it on with every gender out there at least once, and she loved it. Truly, she just loves the human body in every shape and form it comes in. People routinely get gender euphoria just from being in her presence. She honestly might be a goddess, no one is sure, and they also aren't sure they want to know.

Parker isn't so much a girl as just girl-shaped in the eyes of society. They'll answer to she, but really they'll answer to anything and people just assume she. They like they/them the most, though. And pretzels. They really like pretzels, and think Alec and Eliot would too.

Alec vaguely knows he isn't entirely straight. He loves Parker, in all their Parker-ness. But he also has feelings about their resident hitter that he is not entirely clear on. He never really crushed on people all that much when he was younger, too. He really had to know them before he ever thought of them in that way. Either way, Nana always said he had a big heart. That was usually followed by some version of "now put the money back, please, we'll donate our own time to the homeless shelter, not someone else's resources," but suffice to say, he goes all out in his love.

Eliot, likewise, isn't a heterosexual cis man, but he's known that since the beginning. He knows he got lucky, having the parents and the support system he did, and he is thankful every day. His family accepted him from the beginning, and was able to contact a close friend who was able to help them out with getting prescriptions for testosterone early enough that he never really had to go through a lot of the pains and dysphoria a lot of people in his shoes go through every day. He is aware of his privilege, and he is grateful to everyone that helped make his belief into reality. (He also hasn't realized that Parker is basically courting him and Hardison is trailing after with a smile on his face and his heart in his eyes, but he'll realize it soon enough.)

Nate, though you would never know it when first meeting him, totally had bi-wife energy. Nate met Maggie through Sterling at I.Y.S., but she was on her way out the door to go clubbing with some friends and dragged him along when she saw how miserable he looked at the office party. Soon enough they were dancing the night away, and that was that. Maggie is also one of the least problematic people you will ever meet, so of course she was still close friends with all of her exes, which meant Nate was close with them too. Let's just say some of their dinner parties could get a little…raucous.

But coming back to now.

For some reason, all the grumps and grunts have decided June is the month this year to just get in their way, and Parker is having none of it. There are plans! Charts! Parties to attend, celebrations to have, riots to honor! And No One is going to stop them.

Bigots can try, but they will fry. Tzzzt!

[sciderman]

EXTENDS MY HANDS.... DO YOU HAVE ANY CABLE COMIC RECS........ deadpool can be there too i guess

hilarious... hilarious... with all the cable comics i've been reading lately you'd THINK i'd have recs but honestly i don't. i've been reading all the cable comics i can get my hands on but his comics are really boring or confusing and i'm so sorry. it's no wonder they're always in the bargain bin. i'm so so so so so so sorry nathan summers. i still buy the comics because you look stupid hunky in them. and i'm a simple girl with simple needs.

nathan: [time-travel dialogue that makes no fucking sense to me] me, twirling my hair and kicking my feet: hahaha noo cable don't expo-dump me you're so hooot hahahaha...

i think the x-force stuff and the new mutants stuff might be more interesting - i think maybe cable works better as leader of a team (his usual role) or paired up with a foil (aka deadpool) vs solo, he's just not interesting enough to carry anything on his own (sorry)

that being said, my rec list will probably have a significant deadpool bias, because deadpool happens to often be the spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, as it were - i think the thing that makes nate work is when other characters Point Out how ridiculous he is. and wade wilson kind of built an entire career off of that.

i think when nate's played straight (ha) he's just not my bag - i think he needs to play off of characters that reveal just how silly he is. especially since stakes are often so high with nate - time-stream space-time-continuum sort of stuff - it asks a lot of you. so you need someone there to keep things kind of silly. i always prefer lower-stake stuff, personally - otherwise, the thing needs levity from somewhere.

his most recent series was cute (bable my beloved) - written by duggan (who is Not my favourite deadpool writer, and also wrote uncanny avengers - general consensus is that duggan doesn't really Get Cable, but his stuff is still very readable.) (deadpool is there, also.)

on the topic - uncanny avengers (2015) - i kind of don't like the way nate is written here - very stoic, unfeeling, very hyper-macho. but he looks really sexy (even with his receding hairline.)

speaking of this particular artist that draws nate so sexily - deadpool vs x-force. beeeeeeyoing. i think it might be one of my favourite books with nate in. for entirely shallow reasons.

daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. d

i've read the cable (2008) series and it was - kind of an infuriating experience, admittedly. the writing is confusing, and the art is actually insanely infuriating to me. like i wanted to scream while reading this series. it's sensory overload. a lot of cable comics feel like that for me, actually. i found this entire book in the bargain bin for like, £2 and STILL didn't buy it because i hated reading it so much.

that being said:

daddy? s

god. his head is so tiny. whatthefuck.

i think my favourite cable stuff i've read is probably niceiza's stuff (again. fuck.) and i think it's for the same reason why i like his deadpool stuff the most too - everywhere else I see nate he's this rugged tough guy who's kind of intentionally one-dimensional and hardcore - but when i read niceiza's nate he's kind of stupid sometimes. he's stupid and his worldview is kind of perplexing and ridiculous, and we're kind of perpetually infuriated by him but kind of feel for him because we have a real sense that he's trying so hard. it's not just cool-guy i have a massive gun check out my massive gun i don't have time for emotions i have a time-stream to fix sort of stuff - nate gets a weird kind of vulnerability in niceiza's stuff, and he's constantly, literally de-powered. niceiza loves de-powering him. and i love to see a nathan summers de-powered. he's so sexy when he's pathetic. i love pathetic men. and niceiza just so happens to have a knack for writing the most pathetic men i've ever seen.

so cable & deadpool (2004) and deadpool & cable: split second, obviously. do i even need to say it.

i'd love it if anyone had any recs for what people feel is the definitive cable - like, cable fans, if you could point at a book and say "THIS IS IT. THIS IS NATHAN SUMMERS AS HE WAS INTENDED." i'd love to read it, i'd love to read it. i know there's definitely comics i can point to for deadpool when it comes to that - but i think everyone takes something different from these characters - and a character like nate, i've seen so so so many different interpretations of him in fanon that always get me curious.

[vozvy]

My Fallout OCs !

Made using [https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/1473879] and edited on ibispaintx

Alice Truman is my Sole Survivor character. Also known as Sentinel Truman. My headcanon is that she was a soldier in her life before the war instead of Nate, and he was a lawyer. She joined the BoS because it felt the most familiar to her but also helped out the Minutemen quite a lot, but decided it would be best for Preston Garvey to become the general instead of her. After a few years of working with the BoS, she retires and lives out the rest of her days as a happy little family with her husband, the now exiled Paladin Danse and the synth child Shaun.

Nevada Sinclair is a wanderer from the Capital Wasteland who finds herself in the Commonwealth around the time the sole survivor emerges. Her parents worked with caravans her entire childhood so she was used to constantly travelling. Hell, she didn’t even know where she was actually born. Somewhere on the side of some road, probably. When her mother started to become ill, she and Nevada’s father decided to finally settle down somewhere and make a little farm for themselves. They lived a “good” life for a few years until the sickness finally took Nevada’s mother. After that, her dad taught her everything she knew; how to shoot a gun, tend to wounds, cook basic dishes, and everything else you’d have to know to survive out in the wasteland. He even gave her his own jacket, which he tore the arms off of to fit her better. Well, one day, Nevada went out hunting. When she came back, she found her father leaned back in his chair with blood gushing from his forehead. Someone had murdered him. It was precise, calculated. Nothing in the house had been disturbed, it must have been a sniper. But why? Why would someone want to end him, specifically? If it were raiders, the whole house would’ve already been stolen. She buried him out back with her mother then packed her things and left. She wanted to find who did what they did and why, as well as some sense of meaning in her life. She took on many odd jobs, trying to make ends meet but things would change for the better once she meets the sole survivor.

[purlturtle]

For the Writers Truth or Dare ask game:

🕯 (candle - do you like editing)

⛸ (roller skate but I don't have that one on desktop 😢 - describe your latest WIP with 5 emojis)

🍦 (ice cream cone - name three good things about a character you hate)

Thank you for the ask, these sound like a great challenge! (full list here)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Starting strong - I gotta go all the way to my writing process here, to explain my reply of "a strong 8 - I do enjoy it a lot"

I never learned to write, as in, had a creative writing class, or part of German (or even second-language class)! More specifically, I never learned to draft. My first draft is very often already 80-90% of what will end up on the page, complete with all scenes, adjectives, names of secondary characters etc etc. My editing is mostly catching typos/grammar mistakes and swapping one word or phrase for another. Full re-writes of a scene, taking out a scene, starting a scene over: that happens during the writing process, for me, and even there it's rare. I think I re-ordered scenes once or twice in my entire writing "career"? (as in, this doesn't fit here, I'll cut and paste it somewhere else)

And so, the editing that I do is a clear servicing of my fic in order to make it better, and I always love to do that.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

Oh boy 😅 I'm currently on desktop too, and the number of emojis is wayyy to small for here. I'll post this when I've answered the third question, and then switch to mobile and edit in hopefully better fitting emojis!

Edit: okay here we go:

🏚️👰‍♂️🤵‍♀️😤🥰

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Sheesh!! That one is hard. To start with, I don't hate a lot. Like, that word is so strong, it applies to *maybe* one character - and even there it's more of a "I strongly dislike this guy for his actions and motives but I appreciate that that is only because of his (very necessary) role in the narrative." So... let's go with a character that gives me the biggest eyeroll impulse:

Nate No-Last-Name from the Warehouse episode "Instinct"; Mister Blandy Milquetoast McBlandface. It's easy to mock him because he's obviously so ill-suited to being H.G. Wells' romantic partner - but she did choose him, so let's try and find good-faith reasons why.

he clearly loves his daughter very much, and does his best to be a good dad to her. And a lot of that is providing stability/reliability, which can easily be read as boring, but hey, an eight year old (or whatever Adelaide's age is in that episode) doesn't really need the kind of excitement that the artifact brings to their household, and certainly not on a weekly basis.

he equally clearly loves Helena as well. However much or little that is requited or based on any kind of truth, it is there. He's approaching her in good faith, he cares about her, he is trying to build something good with her.

he clearly provides something that Helena is seeking, be it consciously or subconsciously. Hell, a little bit of boring stability and reliability can be exactly what someone needs to get their feet back under them! I only ever read "playing house" being said very disparagingly, with a scoff and a head-toss, but Christ, don't we all need a break sometimes? Doesn't Helena, after all she's been through - all that the Warehouse and the Regents put her through?

I really do like "Instinct" a whole lot, as a character moment for Helena. As much as it hurts my shipper heart to see her in that beige suburban home, I can understand why she's there. And Nate is integral to that, just as much as Adelaide. Yes, he's clearly someone "good enough", someone "at least he respects me as an equal" - not someone you choose because passion has smashed you into their arms, but also, not someone with whom every day is a rollercoaster for emotions. It's like when you have an upset stomach: maybe the richest, tastiest, hottest of all foods isn't a good idea right now. Having bland stuff for a while will help you heal. Might be nothing to write home about, but has all the nutrients and does not aggravate.

Oh man, that turned out to be a long answer! Thank you for asking, that was fun!

[gold-onthe-inside]

Trent has a history of publicly releasing personal information, Isaac is making casually homophobic statements in the locker room, and Nate is off doing a job somewhere completely different, but it’s Nate that’s going to put Colin. Riiiiiiight.

well, gut feelings can be wrong 🤷‍♀️

i doubt trent's the one who's gonna leak information when he left his job because of what he had to do to ted. not to mention, he's writing a book, he isn't with a news agency at all.

as for isaac, is the casual homophobia disappointing? yes. i expect better behaviour from a captain. but for a show that always preaches faith and forgiveness, i don't doubt that isaac will make amends once he gets the wake up call.

i do think that out of everyone on the show, the only person who has something to gain from outing colin and the incentive to do so is nate. now, how he finds out is beyond me. it could be something as simple as someone tweeting something about them. other ppl have suggested that shandy's comment about making interviews go viral might land on colin.

i know that nate right now has the most to benefit after he just lost to richmond. it could be that someone else outs him first and nate just makes it worse... i honestly don't know. what we know is that colin and nate have a complicated relationship. they’ve both had their fair share of humiliating the other in public, warranted or otherwise. and nate definitely has a history of lashing out at other people when he feels humiliated. being defeated by richmond is the perfect set-up for that.

those are just my thoughts. i don’t hate nate and i’m not playing favourites. it’s also entirely possible that trent encourages colin to come out and to give his perspective on things (which is a book i would absolutely read). i also can’t tell what isaac’s reaction is going to be. i know in the trailer, there’s a point where obisanya is wearing the captain’s armband. i don’t know if it’s related to this, or to something else.

but i do know that despite the homophobic remarks, colin and isaac are good friends. in the same episode, he checks in with colin to ask if he’s alright. so i do hope he still cares enough to maintain that relationship. and as far as i can see from the trailer, there doesn’t seem to be any sign of hostility between colin and the team (apart from one tiny bit where isaac scores a goal during training and colin’s just sort of left behind but that could be nothing too).

i hope this is all semi-coherent but that’s just my opinion and i could be wrong. and that’s fine. i’m a-ok with being wrong about nate. in fact, i’d prefer it. it would be my DREAM to have nate actually defend colin or something which could be a part of his redemption arc. but i’m not okay with impolite anons coming into my inbox implying that there was no reasoning behind that opinion. next time, i’d appreciate it if you were courteous and polite. but thanks for dropping by 👋

[richardsphere]

Leverage Log: The Van Gogh Job

Well i read the name of the episode and my dutch bones cringe in advance at the butchering of Vincents' name that i just know is imminent. (yes i know that the soft G does not occur in American English, or regular English. Doesnt mean that hearing Ven-Go doesnt hurt my soul)

---

So guy has a Van Gogh painting Hidden somewhere (Spoiler: Its probably in the Wurlitzer) Team Leverage tries to find it. Bit weird that this episode starts with him sending Hardison and Parker ahead. (in that he's sending them to be a combination bodyguard and trust-getters, those are Hitter and Grifter roles.)

That would work with my theory re:Nate getting his affairs in order. But im also getting my first direct evidence against it. Nate explicitly telling Elliot not to learn about technology "that will never happen". Because, if he were wanting to get the 3 to cover eachother properly... He'd want Elliot to learn Hacker stuff.

---

Elliot shows up pretending to be a gas inspector, only to run into a Mold Inspector... Honestly i dont know if the "someone else is using an inspector guise" thing is as funny as the idea of Elliot literally running into an actual health inspector would be.

---

Oh a Parker and Hardison self-insert imagination sequence? Delightfull.

---

Oh Elliot, just the thin moment of hope on his face that maybe, somehow this paper scroll in the ladies hands is gonna be the actual Van Gogh they are looking for. Lovely little moment. Its apreciated.

--- Sherrif Nate! --- Even in a WWII flashback, Elliot cant stop de-ammunitioning guns. --- Look im gonna say it, yes the segregation era star-crossed romance is effective. Its also not something i havent seen before. And I also think im too much of a mayo-man to say I can analyse it in a meaningfull degree, so im gonna just say its a nice story and good enough to disctract me from the name-butchering and move on to the obvious.

Its obviously in the Wurlitzer, they'll donate the thing, tell the news the art was in the Wurlitzer which means that now the Rollerrink has historic significance as "the place where the priceless Van Gogh Self-portrait was recovered after it was lost in the war", Rink gets monument status and is thus legally protected and the Van Gogh ends in a museum.

---

Oh our Client is betraying us... What a shock. (no legitmately, he's enough of a Little Grey Man type that i actually forgot he existed. Good play on the writers casting someone so forgettable... and once more that's a legitimate compliment to the actor, its just hard to make it sound like one.)

Elliot's little "clink" and smile when he's finished unconcious-ing the goons is delightfull. Like this is a guy who thinks "if only every object i bludgeon with made music". Thats the face of a guy who is about to buy one of those rain-tubes for percussive purposes.

lovely little moment of Nate humanising the episodes traitor-client with the "thats why you loved it" bit. He's pitifull, not evil.

Bedside denouement, romantic yadayada about Dorothy's Loyalties.

And of course the final lesson "dont waste time". (im gonna be honest, its a bit "magical black guy" to have the guys entire purpose in the story be to tell the white character to get her act together romantically... But then again I'm too eggshell-skinned to really comment in depth myself, but it feels unfair not to at least mention that we've got a black character whose only narrative purpose is literally to espouse wisdom on the white character. But also the story needs a wrap up, every story about historic wrongdoings needs a "dont let your generation repeat histories mistakes"-message and having the lesson be given to emotionally struggling Parker makes more narrative sense then giving it to Hardison, the guy who's got a pretty good deal on his own feelings...)

In final summary, lovely episode. Too historically and racially charged for someone as cloud-coloured as myself to really say much more about without getting torn apart for "stealing minority voices" so im Shutting Up Now.

[aprillikesthings]

s2 ep2 Ties that Bind

eheheheh

ahem

Took me way too long to realize this was a pun on "drill" as in an object Entrapta would use to make things (I think it's a carryover from the original 1980's series, I could be wrong)

plot

Oh god Entrapta lived in the Crypto Castle. This is long-ago enough that "crypto" didn't mean bitcoin.

Glimmer: we're going to go get Entrapta by ourselves.

whyyyy

Plot shit: Mara destroyed the Watchtower and that's why Light Hope is constantly glitching, and nobody stops to think Mara might've had a good reason, but also

I spent the mid/late 90's mildly obsessed with music from the 1960's, okay, and yes I know this is the cover of a Bob Dylan song, but it's also one of Jimi's best songs

I read somewhere that all the times this character's voice repeats or gets distorted weren't added effects, the voice actor Can Just Do That.

sorry just laughing at Catra being undignified and scratching her butt

ANGY KITTY

another one for the "never pause shera" sub

wait one more

more angy kitty (and more cartoon bondage, per the episode title)

yes this is a funny bit but also I love that they're showing farmland.

One of my continual gripes with the entire fantasy genre is how often they don't show anyone farming. Especially in pseudo-medieval fantasy worlds, the vast majority of the population would be spending their lives as farmers, but also PEOPLE HAVE TO EAT. Where is the farmland. Where. Where is it.

(I loved the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies but it always bugged me that the ONLY farmland we EVER saw was in the fucking Shire. What is everyone else EATING.)

EDIT: later in the episode it's implied this is just dead grass they bring back to life??? to me it looks like a field of mature grain! Meh.

no she's just gay

I'm not going to take screenshots (bc they're on screen for like a split second each) but the images of multiple characters as horses that Swift Wind is imagining are SO GOD DAMNED FUNNY

ew, Catra!

Meanwhile Bow and Glimmer debate the ethics of keeping a hostage. As multiple posts back in the day point out, literally every main character in this show commits war crimes lol

why are you sniffing your foot

H E L P i cannot stop laughing she's just :}

this whole scene is such a huge part of why so many of us headcanon her as a huge brat lolol

THEY DID A MEME AGAIN AHAHAHAH

this is what happens when a tv show is made entirely by people in their 20's

fangie

do we headcanon her tongue as being as rough as an actual cat's or closer to a human's? I tend to assume somewhere in the middle.

For Reasons.

pfft

AAAHAHAHAH she's like :>

I love how Catra is totally just yanking their chains but the moment Glimmer mentions Adora, Catra goes back to Angy Kitty: "yeah??? she'll leave you, too!" like oh, is Adora a sensitive subect? hm?

Poor Scorpia's infatuation with Catra is hard to watch bc I know it's so one-sided :(

One of my friends ships these two a LOT and let's be honest, I can see it

(Also as many people including Nate have pointed out, they're actually really similar as people; their differences are almost entirely due to their upbringings.)

now kISS

unintentional pun alert

plot plot Adora is convinced she has to be "a better She-Ra than Mara so I don't hurt people like she did."

Awww there's a great little moment between Adora and Swift Wind. Adora apologizes for making Swift Wind, uh, sentient I guess; and Swift Wind says "Adora, I wouldn't trade my voice and my wings for anything. I've got the chance to change the world now. To make it better than when I found it. I can't imagine ever going back, can you?"

they fix the Watchtower, Glimmer and Bow make it back to Bright Moon with the knowledge Entrapta is alive and working for the Horde, episode is over

[onewomancitadel]

@serenpedac said:

Rogue leader theory

It seems that my one ever-enduring resonsibility in fandom is to shake things up. This, too, is very Solas of me.

I'm very surprised on this note. I initially dismissed the theory as I thought it was too obvious, and that's why I didn't make a post about it because I didn't want to seem stupid in falling for the bait. My chief argument for it lay in the mechanics of the CYOA, outside of the matter of characterisation, framing, subtle foreshadowing, etc.

There's pretty much no reason to build up the relationship as it does (with the choices about how to handle her absence, etc.) unless it's leading somewhere. So either Rebecca is going to sacrifice herself for the detective (and the sacrifice is contingent upon this background relationship check) or there's some sort of betrayal coming which impacts the character in different ways depending on that standing relationship. This would be bittersweet for those who chose to repair the relationship vs. may punish those who didn't build up the relationship (which might play into some of Felix/Farah's and Nate/Nat's suggestions to push you in that direction). I'm thinking about it from a mechanics perspective because special attention has been paid to it - in a romance story no less.

It's possible that she's some other shadowy figure (a Trapper?) but I think the fact that the Rogue leader is connected to Rook in the epilogue, near possessively in fact, the connection feels obvious to me. I'm saying this in not having read a counter fan theory, but I'm not really interested in analysing this for the sake of theorising or the sake of the text, but just based on my own speculation and gut feeling.

The Rogue leader is notably a 'she' which feels important too.

The reason I considered it bait is because the antagonistic feeling underscoring the relationship seems like maybe it might trick you into thinking she's a secret baddie, when she really just loves her kid... but given the fact that most of the characterisation is very straightforward, e.g. Sin really is good and it doesn't trick you, I began to diverge from that idea.

Having got through two thirds of my Morgan playthrough and discovered that the Agency has [redacted] to her, which I'm very upset about, I also think it's fully plausible that the Rogues aren't entirely evil either. So it might not be a clean betrayal story; Rebecca's probably not totally evil.

She doesn't want you to join the Agency because she's working against them and they're not good news. This may influence the tenor of her threats - she's 'trying' to be as dangerous as possible to scare you away. On the one hand, you have her asking if you're sure, over and over again, about what you're doing; on the other, she's doing what she can to try and scare you off. The face of the mother vs. the face of the professional.

This may also then muddy the waters about the decision to make the maa-alused join the Agency, in what was initially a 'good' choice now becomes more grey, and vice versa; a failure that a lot of people presumably make because they're romantics playing a romance-motivated CYOA, in choosing to save the love interest over Sanja, kind of retroactively becomes something else. Now that'd be a fun way to recontextualise the choices you've made and provide a thematic refresher at the relative halfway mark.

There are going to be seven fucking books? That sounds really difficult to carry the romantic tension.

Yes, there are sex scenes with Morgan (as I later discovered) but Jean doesn't just want to have meaningless sex, he wants to make love, so they haven't done anything yet 🥰

I also discovered the long hair was Ava, which is fun... I enjoy finding out new things... like the fact that Adam once had long hair... and now he doesn't... so fuck me actually... (I'm still laughing that I managed to pick the knight).

Yeah, no, my position on present tense is uncommon if not actively disliked in fandom, and it's just a matter of preference.

(Small footnote here in that I am also very sure that your writing is very good, and to my recollection English is not your mother tongue - in which case I am in awe of the ability to write creatively in another language. I still don't know how Nabokov did it. Take the following with a grain of salt, and also know that this is my roughly general position; I am also kind of obsessed with getting to the bottom of what makes writing sound good).

But I think people really struggle a lot with their writing 'sounding' like fanfiction and being unable to transcend the narrative form accepted in fandom, and that that narrative form can get incestuous really quickly and sound bad. The question to me is to tease out 'how to make present tense sound good' - like I said, there are instances where I think it's used deftly, in a way which does not mimic past tense narration - because outside of fanfiction, and even within fanfiction, most writers are working within the boundaries of past tense. It's not a codified tradition, it's a very folk one.

That in itself is a source of dispute outside of fandom in the literary sphere though; to what end the construction of prose, the 'niceness' of prose, matters, is in full contention. There's a desire to transcend prose, a desire to shit on prose because it's not cool, or to view it merely as a windowpane (literally - 'windowpane prose') into that storytelling world. It is completely fucking stupid. The only tools you have as an author are your prose and how you choose to disseminate information. It goes beyond a matter of creativity (how to make writing beautiful) and to a question of what the actual point of writing is and how you are empowered in telling a story.

That's what informs my reading as well. How has the author chosen to group information? How have they chosen to deliver these ideas - down to the skeleton of the story? Mason/Morgan introducing where the thralls are imprisoned and being grouped with them narratively is what informed my reading of their past - although I'm not sure how this theory will hold out, because the parallel between them and the thralls may be only be metaphorical but not absolute supernatural enslavement, I was still thematically correct (especially on the note of imprisonment). I do still think this is how I would've chosen to have written them, because the possibility that a thrall could become a vampire shakes up some of the mythos (and provides the spectre of redemption for the thralls in the story - why do they or don't they get to be full vampires?). This really goes for Rebecca too: this is how I would sensibly implement the mechanic for full narrative force, and, of course, to fully deliver on the 'is the Agency good or bad?' By the end of the series, you can evolve it through to a decision to either redeem the Agency or to close it down. And then what happens to the next shadowy supernatural organisation - or do you tell the world of it all?

And, of course, do Adam and Detective Majestic get over torturing each other and finally have sex. I don't think it will ever happen because she will just start crying looking at him because his pain makes her so sad, but she would totally let him suck her blood.

A scattering of TWC impressions, which I played because a mutual posted fanart featuring a guy with long hair and I wanted to see if he had long hair in the game. The character my protagonist romanced only had long hair in a flashback. I told you, they are trying to contain me

That being said, I'll try to be fair:

By Book Two I was calling that the mother is a traitor, and I presume the epilogue in Book Three confirms this. My favourite silly thing that authors do is something like:

"I'll never forgive anybody who ever does this."

[Character who is later never forgiven for something immediately speaks]

"I sure hope nobody betrays us."

[Traitor speaks]

or in the case of TWC, every time a Rogue leader was mentioned, Rebecca immediately began speaking. It's just a subtle way of linking information together that most people aren't going to pick up on, outside of actual hard clues (e.g. there's the bit where Rebecca gets the pure DMB, and somehow Murphy had pure DMB on hand, the repeated emphasis on doing anything for her child, caginess about leaving being a leader of the Chamber/the dad thing, etc.)

I cannot imagine how much work it was to twine together a CYOA game and try to structure the prose as part of that experience, so I tried to be really gentle on that aspect when I am at my most critical with such a thing.

Present tense works best with first person (there is one time that I've read third person present tense and it's transcended my issues with it, I think because there was a real deft employment of where it's good for - especially sex scenes) in my experience because it reflects that natural English conversational tone, though my preference would still be first person past tense, for the sake of CYOA I can see why it was chosen. That being said, I think it really did struggle at points trying to marry a past tense reflectional tone to the present, and there were times that the description of the environment was especially clunky. I wrote a post about dialogue tags that was implicitly about this series lol.

I did pay for all three books so I'm not knocking on something a fan put their heart into, hahaha. To its detriment I think the quality of the prose depreciated by Book Three - having gone back to do a second playthrough to do a male protagonist/Morgan playthrough, I don't think this is recency bias. In terms of actual structure, Book Three probably has the overall better dramatic moments but experiences a weakening of connective tissue - lots of 'and then'..., and fewer scenes where I can smash my dollies together.

This really brings me to my issue which is that I didn't go in knowing it was all about romance, and I really wish - ironically - it had leant more into being about romance.

The plot is there to carry the development (which I enjoy, unless you are able to write something truly literary) up until it fell more like it was beginning to overwhelm it by Book Three - then again I hated the fake dating in Book Two because it's a beloathed trope of mine, so maybe I'm just hard to please. I think this might be an issue of the will-they-won't-they Adam romance, which - whilst I love slow burn and most of all absolutely love slow burn which dicks around - really needed to torture Adam more and torture my protagonist more to get the message through, I think in part a consequence of the tone of this sort of story which is trying to feel grounded, but I would choose sensible character development in exchange for tonal compromise (especially as it would be constrained to one route). I'm willing to be seated for people who try to stay away from each other - yess please yummy yummy - but you need to feel comfortable in getting the emotional cattle prod out.

And I wouldn't be so upset about the realism of portraying a 900 year old vampire knight unless the setting leant hard into that 'supernatural-but-realism' modern style of cynical writing... like, you can't have characters laugh about believing in God (when God structured that period of Adam's early life and magic is real and a Gnostic-esque Echo World is also real...) and then get mad at me when I want you to portray a 900 year old vampire knight properly. He sounds like a traumatised soldier from 20-30 years ago; did he change with the times? Did he never fit in back then anyway? I guess I just wanted to go weirder! Also what's his attitude to sex. Lol

Also the fact that human bloodsucking didn't come up until the end of Book Three made me very disappointed. I wanted him to try sucking her like as early as Book One. I wanted to suggest it as a thing to help them fighttttt but it could also be so so sexy. 🥰 It felt a little like dramatic scenes kind of get postponed. No idea what Murphy is doing now

That being said, the most important thing to me were the nonviolent resolutions and being nice to the monsters. I think the real reason I kept playing is because it did keep offering outcomes that let me try to be peaceful and show compassion to the big sad mean monsters... whether that was in the romance itself, or towards the antagonists, that was actually great fun.

It's not even something you necessarily get to do in a Bioware game because combat is considered the lifeblood of video games (maybe in some older games you can talk down the antagonist, thinking of the original Fallout here - but notably its sequel eschewed this, almost like a joke) and the type of character I tend to construct for this setting is the gentlest I can think of, just because such gentle characters are so rare. So it's very very valuable to me to get to play that.

That actually brings me into what I liked about the romances, which is that I never had to consistently hit a 'flirt' option - something I hate about how RPG's construct romance now - because that's not even how people become attracted to each other! - and it asked me what route I was going to take. Notably on my second playthrough, it asked me why I had been avoiding Morgan - so it actually integrated how you met those hidden romance checks into the storytelling, even when I went through a romance with fewer checks seemingly hit. (I think this might've been because I let her wait outside? But why would I force my character on her? Lol).

And because Detective Majestic (okay I was thinking of Destroy All Humans because cops/supernatural/special agencies, I wanted something silly, and then they kept using her surname the whole goddamned playthrough...) is so gentle, she never pushed Adam not even once, and it let me keep playing that way without punishing that playstyle because it didn't ~meet the romance checks~, but it also had romantic scenarios where neither of them let themselves do anything hahaha, which was amazing. This is probably the rarest portrayal of romance I've ever seen in a CYOA/RPG, and pretty much redeemed my experience because it was so fun to actually play something unique which met me halfway. That in itself is very hard to do - the reason you'd structure something linearly with absolute checks is just because this method is very complex to write. Now you've got more than 'romance - no romance' to write a route for.

So the discovery element was really the strongest, and I enjoyed it for that reason above all else. It let me be nice, pacifistic, and play a romance with a unique approach - and though I am not always the kindest on some requisite romance tropes (part of the reason I liked playing a gentle character is that I like the subversion of pushy romance tropes lol) it was admittedly quite fun!

I'm glad I checked it out, so now I know who is the one with long hair and who isn't, and though I am rather curmudgeonly, I had a little bit of fun. I can definitely see how this would service a rich transformative fandom - especially because I don't know if you could reasonably write a sex scene in the main story proper. Blood sucking might have to supplement it... that's what the vampire can be a facsimile for, just with a much more negative portrayal, lol. Probably a separate thesis to be written on why the vampire has enjoyed a burgeoning positive reception in modern romance.

[millenianthemums]

I just saw your Bad End AU on my dash and I'm instantly hooked! I especially love the design for Colress!

I do have a question though, what is the fates of the other Unova protagonists + N? I'm curious to see if Ghetsis is possibly looking for their blood to be spilled 👀

Also if N is still alive my pitch for a cool looking setpiece is him near a frozen and possibly broken ferris wheel

thank you so much, i’m glad you like the AU! i’m especially proud of the design for Colress so i’m really glad you like it!

to answer your question, i think that in this AU, where Ghetsis successfully powers up Kyurem and Rosa isn’t able to stop him, N would unfortunately be very much dead. other people have observed before that Ghetsis’s pokemon team is pretty well balanced to specifically counter N’s, and he would definitely not hold back from getting rid of anyone he thought was a threat to his newfound victory. Colress is pretty much only alive in this AU because he knows how to operate the Kyurem Cannons and control Kyurem’s powers better than anyone else; otherwise Ghetsis probably would have killed him too, just for causing trouble.

as for the other Unova protagonists, Nate and Hilbert have a better chance at survival since they weren’t on the frigate at the time. it’s entirely possible that they’re holding out somewhere; unlikely, but possible. Hilda, being the one who defeated Ghetsis in BW and in this AU being Rosa’s travelling companion, has a much bigger target on her back. if she’s not dead, she’s in hiding somewhere and being obsessively pursued by Ghetsis who wants to kill her at all costs. i’m not set on this, but i like the idea that she managed to just barely escape and has been helping shelter survivors from the nuclear winter.

i also have the idea that since Hilda was there in my version, and had Reshiram with her, Ghetsis was able to combine Kyurem with both Reshiram AND Zekrom, which is part of why he’s so seemingly unstoppable now. i’m not sure about that, though. i do want it to be POSSIBLE to stop him, after all.

[londonspirit]

“I inherited Marvel and the Russo Brothers’ casting choice of T’Challa. It is something that I will forever be grateful for. The first time I saw Chad’s performance as T’Challa, it was in an unfinished cut of CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR. I was deciding whether or not directing BLACK PANTHER was the right choice for me. I’ll never forget, sitting in an editorial suite on the Disney Lot and watching his scenes. His first with Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow, then, with the South African cinema titan, John Kani as T’Challa’s father, King T’Chaka. It was at that moment I knew I wanted to make this movie. After Scarlett’s character leaves them, Chad and John began conversing in a language I had never heard before. It sounded familiar, full of the same clicks and smacks that young black children would make in the States. The same clicks that we would often be chided for being disrespectful or improper. But, it had a musicality to it that felt ancient, powerful, and African.

In my meeting after watching the film, I asked Nate Moore, one of the producers of the film, about the language. “Did you guys make it up?” Nate replied, “that’s Xhosa, John Kani’s native language. He and Chad decided to do the scene like that on set, and we rolled with it.” I thought to myself. “He just learned lines in another language, that day?” I couldn’t conceive how difficult that must have been, and even though I hadn’t met Chad, I was already in awe of his capacity as actor.

I learned later that there was much conversation over how T’Challa would sound in the film. The decision to have Xhosa be the official language of Wakanda was solidified by Chad, a native of South Carolina, because he was able to learn his lines in Xhosa, there on the spot. He also advocated for his character to speak with an African accent, so that he could present T’Challa to audiences as an African king, whose dialect had not been conquered by the West.

I finally met Chad in person in early 2016, once I signed onto the film. He snuck past journalists that were congregated for a press junket I was doing for CREED, and met with me in the green room. We talked about our lives, my time playing football in college, and his time at Howard studying to be a director, about our collective vision for T’Challa and Wakanda. We spoke about the irony of how his former Howard classmate Ta-Nehisi Coates was writing T’Challa’s current arc with Marvel Comics. And how Chad knew Howard student Prince Jones, who’s murder by a police officer inspired Coates’ memoir Between The World and Me.

I noticed then that Chad was an anomaly. He was calm. Assured. Constantly studying. But also kind, comforting, had the warmest laugh in the world, and eyes that seen much beyond his years, but could still sparkle like a child seeing something for the first time.  

That was the first of many conversations. He was a special person. We would often speak about heritage and what it means to be African. When preparing for the film, he would ponder every decision, every choice, not just for how it would reflect on himself, but how those choices could reverberate. “They not ready for this, what we are doing…” “This is Star Wars, this is Lord of the Rings, but for us… and bigger!” He would say this to me while we were struggling to finish a dramatic scene, stretching into double overtime. Or while he was covered in body paint, doing his own stunts. Or crashing into frigid water, and foam landing pads. I would nod and smile, but I didn’t believe him. I had no idea if the film would work. I wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing. But I look back and realize that Chad knew something we all didn’t. He was playing the long game.  All while putting in the work. And work he did.

He would come to auditions for supporting roles, which is not common for lead actors in big budget movies. He was there for several M’Baku auditions. In Winston Duke’s, he turned a chemistry read into a wrestling match. Winston broke his bracelet. In Letitia Wright’s audition for Shuri, she pierced his royal poise with her signature humor, and would bring about a smile to T’Challa’s face that was 100% Chad.

While filming the movie, we would meet at the office or at my rental home in Atlanta, to discuss lines and different ways to add depth to each scene. We talked costumes, military practices. He said to me “Wakandans have to dance during the coronations. If they just stand there with spears, what separates them from Romans?” In early drafts of the script. Eric Killmonger’s character would ask T’Challa to be buried in Wakanda. Chad challenged that and asked, what if Killmonger asked to be buried somewhere else?

Chad deeply valued his privacy, and I wasn’t privy to the details of his illness. After his family released their statement, I realized that he was living with his illness the entire time I knew him. Because he was a caretaker, a leader, and a man of faith, dignity and pride, he shielded his collaborators from his suffering. He lived a beautiful life. And he made great art. Day after day, year after year. That was who he was. He was an epic firework display. I will tell stories about being there for some of the brilliant sparks till the end of my days. What an incredible mark he’s left for us.

I haven’t grieved a loss this acute before. I spent the last year preparing, imagining and writing words for him to say, that we weren’t destined to see. It leaves me broken knowing that I won’t be able to watch another close-up of him in the monitor again or walk up to him and ask for another take.

It hurts more to know that we can’t have another conversation, or facetime, or text message exchange. He would send vegetarian recipes and eating regimens for my family and me to follow during the pandemic.  He would check in on me and my loved ones, even as he dealt with the scourge of cancer.  

In African cultures we often refer to loved ones that have passed on as ancestors. Sometimes you are genetically related. Sometimes you are not. I had the privilege of directing scenes of Chad’s character, T’Challa, communicating with the ancestors of Wakanda. We were in Atlanta, in an abandoned warehouse, with bluescreens, and massive movie lights, but Chad’s performance made it feel real. I think it was because from the time that I met him, the ancestors spoke through him. It’s no secret to me now how he was able to skillfully portray some of our most notable ones. I had no doubt that he would live on and continue to bless us with more. But it is with a heavy heart and a sense of deep gratitude to have ever been in his presence, that I have to reckon with the fact that Chad is an ancestor now. And I know that he will watch over us, until we meet again.”

[kmclaude]

@idalwaves replied:

Did Nathan actually know that Annemarie abused Tiefer? How would he have found out?

Sort of. Her emotional abuse? Yes, hard to miss. Physical abuse? Similarly hard to miss. Tiefer would often get into fights at school but that cannot explain everything. Plus he definitely would have told Nathan. Either because Nate asked a couple questions and he felt safe or because he had seen enough that it'd be silly not to expect him to put 2 and 2 together.

Now the sex? Hm. I always feel a little hmm about it. Because if he knew, you'd think damn tell someone. But also like...they're kids. And like so what's the result, now there's no parental figure and income? He gets put in the system and shipped off somewhere worse? It's the devil you know.

And would Tiefer even want him to know? On one hand no: it's disgusting, he's disgusting and disgusted, no wonder Nate doesn't totally want him, it's pathetic enough a woman beats him but also rapes him? God...(and also he'd be living literally all their classmates' dream, a hot older woman? Except he doesn't like women and it's his sister who's basically his mother. But also it feels good when it's good and isn't that the icing on the shitcake.)

On the other hand: someone else knowing means he isn't entirely in this all alone, Nathan knowing means Nathan knows him entirely and look, he hasn't run away, he even talks about running away with him, that means he loves him, maybe there's a chance he can be normal...

(Tiefer definitely would have said that some of Annemarie's lovers were not just interested in her. And Nathan definitely found him when some of them decided to fuck him in the dirt on his 18th birthday. So like. He knew some stuff very well.)

At a certain point though, knowing how long they knew each other and how intimately they knew each other and for the life stages they knew each other, Nathan would have to willingly choose to ignore the signs his best friend was sexually abused by his sister. If not in the moment then in hindsight.

Me: Annemarie never slept with Nathan

Also me: but imagine the guilt! And the loathing because that's his best friend's abuser! And the secrets! And the smugness because she gets her brother's love. She at least had to have come onto him. Extremely forwardly.

[painsandconfusion]

My True North

Whumping the Whumpers: Part Five

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(tw: mention of past torture, blood, stalking) sorry not too whumpy....yet

Ethan sat with one leg dangling over the side of the bridge, swinging slightly. His heel clunked against the cement to a steady rhythm, sending vibrations up to his knee. He picked at a cold sandwich he had found.

Well...Found was a generous word. He had found it in the lunchbox of a distracted business woman on the bus. And then it found its way into his coat pocket. Funny how that works.

Ethan reached for his wallet while he chewed, pulling out Nate’s business card. It was pristine. Nate was one of those fuckers who printed linen business cards just because they could. The texture caressed him back as Ethan ran his thumb over the phone number.

He really should let it go. Watch it flutter down into the water and disappear forever. He could forget about this whole mess. Move on. Go back to what he had a month ago. Ethan had actually been happy for a brief, fleeting moment. He had started to find himself again in the rhythm of the city.

But he was running. Always running.

He couldn’t stand the running. Not anymore. It’s so fucking hard to be brave when you never know when the next shoe will drop. He had too much to run from. Too much of everything. Too many people he’d pissed off. Far too many looking for him. Too many who would peel his skin off his body one strip at a time and force it down his throat just to make a point.

But he was good at running; an expert, really, at getting away. Escaping and wriggling free was his specialty. But once you run, it never stops. The running follows you as much as the past, eating into every cell of your body until that’s all you are. It consumes you. Even when your muscles cramp. Even after blisters form. When feet start bleeding. Legs worn down to nubs. It would never be enough. He couldn’t run fast enough.

The past would always catch up.

Nate had already found him. The others would too. If not them, then the next fucking psycho that came along. Ethan didn’t have friends. Didn’t have a job. Or a home. A phone. Anything. Nothing to tie him down or make him traceable. But that also but him at risk all over again. He was in danger every moment. No walls, no locks, no one to notice if he disappeared. All he could do was break into a rundown high school weight room every night and burn off every calorie he managed to swipe, then pass out in the boiler room. Even that was risky trying to dodge the handful of cameras the school could afford.

He held the card out over the water. He should drop it. He should run. He should…call.

No.

No, Ethan needed to run. He could be happy somewhere else. He just needed to get away. He had gotten Redd’s captives out. That was enough…right?

No. Of course it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t ever be enough. Not anymore. Every time Ethan closed his eyes, he saw Redd gargling on his own blood. Felt the knife in his hands. The indescribable rush or euphoria tingling through his bloodstream.

Redd had screamed so loud. For a man that as so obsessed with Ethan being silent during torture, he had proven quite the hypocrite. Ethan smiled at that. He had smiled, then snapped Redd’s arm under his foot just to hear that scream again. It echoed in his mind even now.

He wasn’t himself in that moment. Ethan wasn’t that kind of person. He was a protecter. A fighter. A little hot-headed maybe, but not sadistic. That was a one-time thing. That was so entirely out of character for him.

So out of character that he wasn’t even afraid. His blood pounded with every sound Redd made. He went from shivering and cowering under the man’s touch to looming over him, making him bleed. Making him scream. Making-

No. Shit. Stop thinking about that. What the fuck is wrong with you, Ethan?

Ethan stood, pacing the edge of the bridge. He tried not to think about it. To shove it down and move on. But Nate was right. He needed more.

Mayo crept through his fingers. Ethan held up his hand to find the sandwich was completely crushed in his first. Pieces of bread and cheese had fallen to the ground.

Stupid. So fucking stupid. Why do I have to break everything I touch? 

Ethan would up and hurled the remains of the sandwich into the river. It plunked down under the water, drawing ravenous fish thrashing against the surface.

So desperate. So hungry. They didn’t care what the food was or whether it might poison to them. They just mindlessly clawed for more, starving and desperate.

Ethan glanced down at the card again while his other hand wiped the Mayo off on his jeans. He tucked the card back in his wallet. Ethan wasn’t an idiot. He couldn’t trust Nate. The man was always playing games. Always fucking with his head. This could so easily be just a game to him. The next time Ethan saw him, he could find a syringe in his neck, a bat to his skull, or chloroform pressed to his mouth and nose. Hell, maybe worse.

Why was he even still considering this? Calling Nate was dangerous. Even on a pay phone, Nate could track his location. It’s not like he could-

Ethan’s thought cut off as something vibrated against his chest. He froze, staring down.

The vibrating continued in a quick, rhythmic pulse. Ethan didn’t even have a pocket there. He patted his chest, locating the phone under the fabric. He reached inside, finding a liner with a letter pocket he hadn’t noticed before.

He had this coat for months, how did he not notice a pocket there?

He pulled out the phone. The caller ID lit of the screen: “Bestie 😘”

Ethan grit his teeth, swiping to answer and pressing the phone to his cheek.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nate’s voice crackled to life on the other end. “Oh good, you didn’t move for so long I thought you might have chucked it into the river.”

“I’ll do that now, then. Thanks for the tip.”

“Aw come on, If you were going to throw away the phone, you would have already thrown away the phone.”

“Well now that I know it’s here, I’m tossing it.”

“Wait, did you really not find it till I called?”

Ethan set it jaw, glaring at the skyline.

“Oh wow. Well that’s kinda embarrassing on your part. It’s been there two days now.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. He should just chuck the fucking phone.

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“A few, actually. First, are you suicidal?”

“The more you talk, the more homicidal I get, does that count?”

“I’m just asking cuz you’ve been standing on a bridge for like two hours.”

“Stop tracking me, creep.”

“Aw, you know you love it. You like the attention.”

Ethan bristled. “Again, is there a point to this conversation?”

“Want to get lunch?”

Ethan paused. “What?”

“Lunch. Let me buy you lunch. We can plan and stuff. Or have you already eaten?”

Ethan stared at the water. The fish were gone with his sandwich. “Already ate, thanks.”

“...Ethan?”

Ethan ground his teeth at the sound of his name on Nate’s lips. “What.”

“Keep in mind I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He should really chuck the phone. “What, are you psychic now?”

Nate chuckled. “No, I just know you. Better than you know yourself, I think.”

“Then do you know what I’m thinking now?”

“Mmm, something violent, I’m sure. Please fill be in on the details though. I love seeing your mind at work.”

Well that threat didn’t fucking work. Just throw the fucking phone. “Yeah, okay, the phone is going in the river. Have a retched life.”

Nate laughed. “Sure it is. I’ll be at the Bartlett Café in fifteen minutes. It’s like three blocks south of where you are. See you then.”

The line went dead in Ethan’s hands before he could get a word in.

Fuck him, anyway. Ethan gripped the phone. He wound up to throw it...then froze.

He weighed it in his hand. The black screen cast back a dark image of this face. Just a shadow of himself. It didn’t look scared. It looked pissed. Strong.

Ethan tucked the phone into his jeans pocket. Then took it out again.

Held it over the water.

Why is this so fucking hard?? Ethan knew the answer. 

He could still feel the blood on his fingers. Nate’s throat in his hands. The rush of absolutely control. Euphoria.

Fuck it. No. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be that.

With one final mental push, Ethan sent the phone flying. It whistled through the air before splashing into the water.

No fish swarmed it. The water swallowed it whole and moved on like it was never there. Well that was anticlimactic.

He still felt empty. It wasn’t enough. He needed a clean break if he was moving on from Nate. Ethan pulled out his wallet and retrieved the business card. He shredded it between his fingers before he had a chance to change his mind. The pieces fell down into the water as well.

Ethan stepped back, hands in his hips. Satisfied.

He started walking north. North was good. Towards the high school he’d been hiding in. Away from the crazy bastard who was definitely going to kill or torture him at the first possible opportunity.

Redd’s face flashed across his vision again. Writhing on the ground. He had tried so hard to crawl away with two shattered kneecaps and no functioning arms. The blood had smeared the ground behind him.

Ethan stomach growled, cutting off his thoughts. Was he ever not going to be hungry?

“Fuck it.”

He turned and started walking south.

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @heathenwhump @paleassprince @wormwriting @jadeocean46910 @distinctlywhumpthing @happy-whumper )

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